Q & A
by Evey Edge
Summary: Two weeks after Liz learns the truth about Tom, she gets a phone call from Red asking her to meet her in an abandoned warehouse. Red's arranged to meet an informant for some Q & A and he'd like Liz's help with the interview. She is in for a surprise when the informant turns out to be the man formerly known as Tom Keen. AU after 1x18. Tom/Liz. *WARNING: THIS IS TOM FRIENDLY*.
1. Late Night Phone Call (Liz's POV)

Liz couldn't sleep. She was exhausted, having spent the day chasing yet any other insanely dangerous blacklister, but still, she couldn't sleep. She hadn't slept in two weeks, not since her unsuccessful sting operation that had led to Tom's escape.

He could be anywhere in the world right now, doing God knows what to God knows who. Maybe he was already on another assignment. Maybe he was murdering someone at this very moment. Maybe he was on a first date with some poor unsuspecting woman who was already falling in love with him. Maybe he was just sleeping an untroubled sleep, with thoughts of her far from his mind. If only she could be as free of him.

At work things were better, always moving, no time to dwell on what waited for her at home, or rather what no longer waited for her at home. There were exceptions, like today, when she'd caught Ressler looking at her with pity. He'd invited her out for a drink, but she'd declined. His loss was so different from hers. He couldn't possibly understand what she was going through.

She found herself wishing that Tom had died during Zamani's attack. If he had, she would have been decimated, but at least she never would have learned the truth. She hadn't just lost her husband; he had never existed in the first place. Three years of memories had become painful reminders of how foolish she'd been. The man she'd pledged her life to hadn't loved her at all.

Liz's phone buzzed on her bedside table. She picked it up, answered, "Keen" and winced as she had for the past fourteen days. She was petitioning to get her name changed back to Scott, but apparently "such things took time".

"Lizzie. I apologize for the late hour, but I need to see you. I'm texting you the address." Red hung up before Liz had a chance to respond. It must have been important. Usually Red was more polite.

In thirty minutes time Liz was dressed and standing in an abandon warehouse. It was empty save Red, Dembe, and three folding chairs.

"Lizzie. Thank you for coming. Are you armed right now?" It was a strange question for Reddington to ask, but Liz hoped if she played along she'd get some answers.

"Of course." She kept her weapon on her at all times these days. It had become abundantly clear that nowhere was truly safe.

"I'm going to ask that you surrender your gun and your phone to Dembe. We have a guest coming and he is a little jumpy about such things." A guest? Her eyes drifted to the three chairs. Red had brought her to meet an informant?

"What kind of guest?" It must have been someone unusual if they'd only meet in the middle of night. Then again when were Red's informants NOT unusual.

"The kind that will provide crucial information about your husband. If you don't feel it's worth the risk I can meet with him myself." It was a tough call. Standard procedure said that an FBI agent never relinquishes her weapon. Then again she wasn't exactly on the clock.

"Do you trust him?" There were many things she didn't know about Reddington, but one of the few that she did was that he'd never put her in a situation where he could protect her.

"If you stay I promise I won't let anything happen to you." Not a direct answer, but when the prize was information on Tom, it was worth the risk. Liz passed Dembe her cell and gun.

"Thank you Dembe. If you could go a meet our guest at the back door?" Dembe returned thirty seconds later, escorting a tall dark haired man in a hoody and jean. Liz's hands balled in to fist. Somewhere in a remote part of her mind she wondered if she was still home in bed, having a nightmare. No, pain of the fingernails digging into her palm was very real.

"Hi Lizzie." Without a word Liz launched herself out of her chair and ran straight for the man formerly known as Tom Keen.


	2. Hard Truths (Tom's POV)

Reddington's bodyguard intercepted Liz before she had a chance to tackle him, or scratch his eyes out or whatever physical punishment she'd been planning by way of greeting. He couldn't say he was surprised; she had every reason to be angry. On second thought, Tom wasn't sure "angry" covered the depth of the fire burning in her eyes. "Enraged" might have been a better choice of words.

"Let go of me!" The large black man had at least eighty pounds on Liz, but Tom could see she was making him work to keep hold of her.

"Lizzie, Dembe will release you as soon as you calm down." Lizzie. For a moment he was distracted by Red's use of his wife nickname. Liz had only ever permitted her father and himself to use it. Now that privilege also extended to Reddington.

"Calm down?! This is your informant?!" Reddington remained unruffled in the storm of Liz's fury. Tom wondered how many time Liz's wraith had been directed at him.

"Who better to provide the information that we both seek?" Liz's struggle seemed to lose its fervor. She still twisted half-heartedly, but Tom could tell she was considering Reddington's words. Perhaps this was the moment to offer some kind of apology. Not that he imagine a single thing that he could say that would heal the pain she was suffering though because of him.

"Lizzie-" The word had barely left his mouth before Liz him off.

"Do not call me Lizzie, you son of a bitch! My husband calls me Lizzie. You are not my husband!" Liz threw her palms to the floor and her hips back, freeing herself from Dembe's hold. She glared at Tom, breathing heavily for a minute, but she made no move to attack.

"I ask the questions, you answer them. That's it. Understand?" Tom nodded his assent, not wanting to re-ignite her rage by speaking. Her words echoed inside his ear. He was not her husband any more.

"Well now that that's settled, shall we sit?" Slowly, and cautiously Lizzie moved to take the seat offered by Reddington. The two of them sat nearly side by side, while his chair was much further away. In a way it reminded Tom of when Detectives Dabarros has visited his home. The detective had sat in a chair across the room and he and Lizzie had taken the coach. Before He and Lizzie had been the team, united facing the stranger. Now it was Reddington and Lizzie and he was the outsider. Tom sat, resigned to his new place in this changed world.

"Who do you work for?" Tom glanced at Reddington before answering this first question. The relationship between Berlin and Red was definitely adversarial, but beyond that Tom wasn't sure what the exact history was. Tom had been carefully monitoring Liz's cases and certain names had popped out at him. The Freelancer, Fredrick Barnes, Gina Zanetakos, Wujing, and The Alchemist all worked for or have done business with Berlin over the last five years. Not every case tied back Tom's former employers, but it was enough for Tom to see the pattern. Reddington was declaring war.

"An international organization based in Berlin. It's made up of criminals and former spies. They deal in intelligence, weapons, and assassinations. It doesn't have a name, just a symbol." Tom's eyes drifted to Liz's wrist where she was unconsciously rubbing her scar as she always did when she was stressed. He remembered the first time he'd seen Liz's scar. They'd been out on their first date. She'd been wearing a simple blue dress with a thin silver necklace. She been so beautiful, not that he'd allowed himself to really enjoy. He'd still been under the delusion he could do his job and remain detached.

"A symbol? What symbol?" Liz's voice brought him back to the present. He gestured to her arm.

"The scar on your wrist. Does it look familiar?" Liz frowned and pulled down her shelve. She traced a finger over the pattern and looked back up at him, a realization dawning in her eyes.

"The box. YOUR box. Why do I have their symbol on my wrist?" A question Tom had no answer to. He asked about it on that first date and she'd become uncomfortable and changed the subject. He'd told himself that it was too soon, that he'd ask again with their relationship became more solid. Except of course he never had. Liz had never brought it up and the more Tom came to know Liz, the less he wanted an answer.

He'd never been given any orders specifically related to the scar and eventually the thought occurred to him that perhaps the reason Berlin never asked was because they didn't know it existed. His orders regarding Liz made it seem that she was only of tangential interest to Berlin, through her connection with Reddington. That scar provided a direct link between Liz and the dangerous people he worked for. His deception was low risk. If anyone asked he could claim he'd assumed Berlin already knew and Tom had simply not been read-in. That had been the first time he'd made a choice to protect Liz. It hadn't been the last.

"I don't know. You should ask whoever gave it to you." Tom registered pain in Liz's eyes before they once again became shuttered. Her reaction had given him the answer he'd been avoiding for years. It had been Sam Holland. Tom had liked his father-in-law. He'd been an easy-going man, quick to laugh, and very loving to his adoptive daughter. It was hard to imagine him holding Liz down and burning Berlin's symbol into her arm. Then again he supposed that Sam had his secrets.

Sam had adopted Liz when she was four and he was still living Baltimore. He'd been 37 years old, single. Former Army Ranger working for a company that sold office supplies. Tom hadn't been able to find a tangible Reddington, yet connected they were if only through Liz. Had it been chance that Sam had chosen to adopt Liz or had Sam been chosen by Reddington? What had Sam known?

"What was your mission?" He reminded himself to be as clinical as possible. If he appeared apologetic, not only would she not believe him, but she suspect of trying to manipulate her.

"I was assigned to get close to you, earn your trust while investigating your connection to Raymond Reddington." Good that sounded simple. It was the same job he'd done a hundred times before. How had things gotten so complicated?

"We met over two years before I started working with Red." That question told Tom a lot about Liz's relationship with Reddington. He might call her Lizzie and she might use his nickname, but Reddington was still keeping his secrets.

"But, he's been in your life for much longer than that, isn't that right, Reddington?" It felt unfair that he should be bearing the full force of Liz's ire when the man she was sitting next to was hiding as many, if not more, secrets than Tom was.

"Why don't you tell her what you found? I'm dying to hear what all that detective work uncovered." Reddington was clearly confident in his ability to cover his tracks.

"Your paths have crossed at key points over the past twenty years. He was funneling money to your father for years." For the first time during the interview Liz took her eyes off Tom and put them on Reddington.

"Is that true?" Tom noticed that when she addressed Reddington her words lost the sharp edge they had when they were aimed at him.

"Yes. I doubt it's much of a surprise to you. You already suspected I knew Sam." Why had she suspected that? Had she tracked Red's movements on the day of her father's death? Did she know he was at the hospital when Sam had died? Did she suspect, as Tom did, that that wasn't a coincidence?

"Why are you here? Why are you telling us any of this?" There were so many ways to answer that question. The path that had lead him here was long and winding, and even he didn't know exactly where it began. He knew it had something to do with cold spaghetti, walks with Hudson, and slow Sunday mornings, but he also knew that wasn't an answer she was ready to hear. Instead Tom gave her a response she might actually accept.

"Berlin and I have reached a parting of ways. Reddington promised me cash and a safe exit out of the country." It was the truth, if an incomplete truth.

"Why you? Why were you put on this assignment?" Tom's mind returned to the room where they'd grilled him for hours on everything relating Elizabeth Scott. He'd memorized everything from her favorite childhood toy to her favorite sexual position. God knows how they'd gotten the later piece of intelligence. They tested him on his potential approaches, his chosen legend, how he'd reaction in any given situation. They made him profile her, her dreams, her fears, and her desires. His answers must have been satisfactory, because of all the candidates they'd picked him.

"Because they choose me for it." Liz seemed dissatisfied with his answer, but what did she want him to say?

"Out of how many? How many men auditioned to be my husband? 2? 3?" The competition had been a little more steep then that. It had been a relatively low risk assignment with the added bonus of sex with a beautiful woman. The high pay had just been icing on the cake.

"I don't know exactly." He wondered how life would have been different for the both of them, if Berlin had chosen someone else.

"Guess."

"A few dozen." Former spies, con men. Mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Attractive. Of course none of them had known exactly how long term the assignment would be. Some of the others might have taken themselves out of contention if they'd realized the full extent of their potential duties. Seducing someone into a brief affair was one thing. Marrying them and living the lie day in and day out was another. Which of the others would have had his commitment?

"Out of all of them, why did they pick you?" That was something Tom had wondered himself many times over the past few years. He was good, but many of the others had been equally good. It made him wonder, given what had happened, that they'd seen something in him, something that made them think he was best suited for the role of Liz's husband. Something that years later had made them doubt whether or not they could still trust him.

"I've always be good at reading people." Right now for example he could see that Liz's was nearing her breaking point. All the anger, the pain, the hurt was starting to bubble toward the surface.

"How did you do it? I'm a trained FBI profiler. We've lived together for over two years. How did you hide it from me? How did I not know! How did I not even sense it?" He knew that Liz would have this question for him and he had considered long and hard how he was going to answer. Six months ago he would have said it was that she couldn't see it because she too close, or that she couldn't see the darkness in others, because she had none within herself. Except now he knew that wasn't true. He knew a secret Liz herself did not know and now it was time to share it with her, whether or not she wanted to hear it.

"You did sense it. Deep down, you've always known." Liz's eyes went wide at his accusation, but Reddington only raised an eyebrow. Perhaps Tom wasn't the only one to have this revelation about Liz.

"Bullshit." She didn't believe him, not yet. But perhaps he could change that.

"No it's not. There is a difference, Liz, between what you think you want and what you actually want." It had been so frustrating being Tom Keen these last few months. All the plans they'd made based on what Liz claimed to want had fallen to pieces and he hadn't been able to understand why.

"What the hell does that mean?" If she wanted evidence all she had to do was examine her choices over the past few months.

"Liz, your home was invaded, and your husband stabbed. Cameras were put up in our house, and you've nearly died a half dozen times. Yet when I asked to move to Nebraska, you didn't want to go. You wouldn't quit your job, not for yourself, not for the husband that you supposedly loved, and the baby you supposedly wanted. The truth, Liz, is that you don't want safe and boring." Dembe didn't move quickly enough to save him from Liz's slap. He could have blocked her, if he'd wanted to, but after everything he supposed he deserved it.

"How dare you make this my fault! You lied to me! You tricked me!" Liz raised her hand to wallop him again, and again Tom made no move to stop her. If this was how she needed to deal with the pain he'd caused her, so be it.

"Lizzie, that's enough." Tom was frankly astonished by Reddington's intervention. This was the same man who only months before had him speared like a wild boar. Tom wondered where this sudden concern had come from.

"Do you agree with him?" Lizzie sounded incredulous. She was probably spinning from Red's sudden reversal.

"I don't think you want me to answer that question." Which of course was all the answer Liz needed to hear.

"You do." Her voice had become soft, vulnerable and full of hurt. She saw Reddington's agreement as a person betrayal.

"Lizzie, look where you are right now. An international criminal calls you in the middle of the night and you come running. You surrender your gun without knowing who you're meeting or why. You don't call for backup. You are abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people. Is it really so surprising that you married a spy?" Liz backed away from both of them, but her eyes stayed on Reddington.

"Why are you taking his side?" Her eyes were full of reproach, like a hurt child unjustly scolded by a parent.

"I'm not. I'm simply helping you understand, because if you don't make sense of this, you'll never be able to trust yourself or anyone else again." It finally dawned on Tom what Reddington was up to. Reddington was grooming Liz for something and whatever it was he'd need Liz to embrace the part of herself that wasn't a cop. He was forcing her to acknowledge her darkness and using him as evidence that it was there.

"Well I've had enough understanding for tonight. I'm leaving." That was probably for the best. Tom wanted to spend some time with Reddington alone. He needed to decide whether or not he needed to kill him.

"Dembe will drive you home." Liz looked from Reddington to Tom and shook her head.

"I don't have a home. Not anymore." Tom's gaze followed Liz as she and 'Dembe' exited the warehouse. When they had gone he turned back to Reddington, who was been watching him with a strange smile on his face.

"Shall we get started?"


	3. The Enemy of My Enemy (Red's POV)

Red regarded Tom with a critical eye. This man had caused him quite a few headaches since he first entered Liz's life. Red had worried about Liz's attachment to her husband long before he'd known that Tom Keen was more than he appeared to be. He'd seen surveillance of them together, and he'd been confused to say the least. Liz's taste in men prior to Tom had indicated a certain attraction to rule breakers. For her to choose a school teacher for a husband was unexpected. His original conclusion was that Liz was fighting her natural impulses in order to create the perfect "normal" family life that had never been hers. He'd been sure the marriage was doomed to failure. Liz's life was never going to be safe and stable enough for an ordinary man. When he'd found out that Tom Keen wasn't an ordinary man and a new host of problems appeared before him.

Learning about the passports Tom Keen had commissioned had been an odd moment for him. Those passports had raised so many questions that the path forward no longer seemed simple. Ultimately he'd chosen to do nothing but watch and wait. It had been hard, seeing Lizzie so happy, so ignorant with a man who was lying to her. He'd hoped that she'd grow bored with Tom Keen's wholesome façade and spare Red the pain of having to one day deliver the painful news, but she hadn't. The adoption had brought yet another element of grief into it. Red had known he'd needed to expose the truth, but being the bearer of such unwelcome news hadn't been an easy job. He suffered through countless accusations, emotional freeze-outs, and a pen in the neck, but at last the truth was known.

When he'd received Tom's phone call, he been surprised. The man was an enigma, and Red had never been able resist a good puzzle. Red had chosen to agree to Tom's proposal, with the caveat that Liz be allowed be at the meet. He'd wanted the answer to the question that had burned in his brain ever since the forger in Russia had contacted him. He now believed he had it.

"What do you want to know?" Tom was brazen, Red had to grant him that. He didn't even try to conceal the contempt in his voice.

"So many things…but I'd like to start with the real reason why you're here." The man was an excellent actor, but Red was convinced Tom's true intentions were completely different from what he'd claimed over the phone.

"I told you: cash, documents, and a way out of the country. That was our deal." A deal almost certainly made in bad faith.

"So it was, but I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around it. Your "brother", Craig choose to throw himself out of a window rather the give-up information on your employer, yet you seem willing to do so for a very reasonable fee and a plane ride." Berlin obviously inspired a great deal of either loyalty or fear. Red strongly suspected the later. It was highly implausible that Tom would turn against them for so slight a temptation as 5 million dollars.

"I don't have any other alternatives. The mission went to hell, thanks to you and they are blaming me." While it might be true that Berlin was displeased with Tom, Red had certain knowledge that Tom had been prepared for such a scenario.

"Be that as it may, you've had an exit strategy in place for at least a year." Tom's face revealed nothing, it was a complete stone mask.

"What are you talking about?" It was uncanny, the ease with which the man lied. No wonder Lizzie had been fooled for so long

"The passports, Tom. The ones you commissioned one year ago. The ones you didn't want Berlin to know about. You were making preparations to flee. I don't mind telling you, Tom, those passports have made me very conflicted about you for quite some time." Tom was silent for a moment and Red could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he considered, assessed, and then re-assessed.

"Why is that?" He'd chosen not to deny the existence of the passport, and instead replied with a question designed to reveal what Red knew.

"You work for an organization that I intend to wipe from the face of the earth. You have deceived and injured someone I deeply care for, and yet, despite that, I can't help but wonder if our differences can't be overcome by our similarities." As an opponant "Tom Keen" had been a challenge. Red's intitial plan to expose Tom through Gina and the box had failed spectacularly. "Tom Keen" had outplayed him, and that almost never happened. He was smart, effective, and willing to do whatever it took to achieve his objectives. His knowledge of Berlin was yet another attraction. If Tom could be turned, he would be an incredible asset, and now Red was supremely confident he had the right leverage to sway him.

"What similarities?"

"The forger told me who you'd bought the passports for. One for you, one for Lizzie, and one for the baby. You were making plans to run away with her. You were trying to protect her. There we have some common ground." Tom gave a derisive bark of laughter that was both unexpected and unwelcome.

"You're trying to protect her? Really? Since you've come into her life she'd nearly died half a dozen times. From where I sit there is no greater threat to her safety than you." Tom's eyes, which had betrayed him as he'd watched Lizzie leave, were fixed on Red in the same manner a hawk watched a rabbit. The truth suddenly became abundantly clear.

"Which is the real reason you're here isn't it? You plan to kill me in order to protect her."

"Your man, Dembe searched me very thoroughly." Not exactly a denial. A man like Tom could kill him any number of ways without the use of a traditional weapon.

"I'm sure he did, but you're a very resourceful man, Mr. Keen. In the interest of full disclosure I admit I may not have strictly adhered to my side of our agreement either." Red was in fact carrying a revolver in his pocket, the same one he'd used to shoot Diane. Red wondered if a bullet would stop the man sitting across from him. There was something in Tom's eyes, a look that he all knew too well. This was a man who believed he had nothing left to lose. The question was: What was stopping Tom from making his move? Perhaps he hadn't made up his mind after all. That meant there was still time to persuade Tom. It was time to get to the 'heart' of the issue, as it were, "Are you in love with Lizzie?" For the first time since Lizzie left, Tom blinked.

"What?"

"It's a fairly simply question."

"She was my target." Deflection, yet again. The man was a professional, and yet he had made such a fundamental mistake, falling in love with his target. Human nature was such a strange thing for spies. It was what they exploited and yet, they themselves were ultimately no different from the marks.

"That's not what I asked."

"Why do you even care? You sent a man into my house to gut me. You sent the FBI after me, then the Metro PD. You use Wujing and the Alchemist to track down Jolene or Lucy or whatever her name was all so you could expose me and destroy my life." His life. Not his cover, not his mission. His life. Red needed to keep pushing if he wanted to meet the real Tom Keen.

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that this was about you. This is about Lizzie." Earlier Red thought he'd seen some reaction when he'd used Liz's nickname.

"Stop calling her Lizzie! You don't have the right. She might think you're some kind of guardian angel, but we both know the truth. You are plague on her life. If you hadn't shown up, none of this would be happening! I would be home in bed with my wife, and our baby in the next room!" It was heartbreaking, in a way, that Tom had allowed himself to imagine that fantasy as a reality. Sadly that life would never have been Lizzie's, with or without him.

"You're not that naïve Tom. You've known since you saw that scar that this isn't only about me. You never told them about it did you?" Tom shook his head slowly, confirming Red's suspicion. It made sense. If Berlin had known, Liz would have been abducted three years ago. "You didn't tell them, because you fell in love with her. That's why you had the passports made. It's why you didn't sleep with Jolene. It's why you killed her when you realized I was after her. They would have extracted you and sent someone else. You were afraid they'd find out the truth." So many actions, seemingly unrelated, but ultimately tying back to the same truth. This man before loved Lizzie, perhaps even more than his alter ego ever did. Red slowly reached into his jacket pocket and removed a stuffed folder. "In this packet are new passports, and a bank account number containing the amount we discussed. You can get in my jet and have the pilot take you wherever you'd like to go. You can disappear. You're resourceful, intelligent, you might be able to hide from your people. Or…." He let the sentence hang to see if Tom took the bait.

"Or what?" Hooked.

"Or you can come work for me. I have a job and I need someone I can trust to do it." Tom Keen raised an eyebrow.

"And you trust me?" The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Unless of course he was just another enemy. The trick was knowing the difference.

"Within the bounds of this assignment, yes. Our interests are aligned."

"Lizzie." It was a statement rather than a question, but Red inclined his head all the same. Tom's stared long and hard at the packet that contained his freedom. Red was a man of his word. If Tom was the type of man who went for the easy out, then he would be useless as an ally. Tom finally raised his eyes to Red's. "What's the job?"


	4. Sucker Punch (Liz's POV)

Jab, jab, right cross. Liz's fist hit the heavy bag with a satisfying thud. She bounced back and repeated the combination. She'd been at the gym for over an hour and she was finally starting to feel some of her anger abate. It was amazing what exercise and a little creative visualization could do. She had plenty of imaginary targets after the events of that morning.

Reddington had called Liz multiple times both last night and this morning, but she'd chosen not to answer. As much as she'd wanted to know what intelligence he'd extracted, she hadn't forgiven him for the previous night. Springing Tom on her had been bad enough, but to suggest that she was somehow to blame for being taken by the man…well she'd hadn't been in the mood to talk to him

Cooper had summoned her to his office as soon as she'd arrived, which had struck her as odd. Cooper hadn't spoken to her much since she'd told him about her and Red's side mission regarding Tom. He'd been less than thrilled, particularly since Tom had gotten away. The deal with Red meant he hadn't even been able to suspend her, which had to have been frustrating for him. She'd sympathized with his position, at least until a few hours ago, when the thrall Reddington had Cooper under came back to bite her in the ass.

_"Please sit, Agent Keen." Cooper was being polite. Liz couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign._

_"Agent Scott, if you don't mind sir." She'd been correcting people around the office for the past two weeks, but it appeared habit was a hard thing to break._

_"Of course. I brought you in here because I wanted you to be the first on the team to hear this outside of me." This definitely wasn't good. If she was being pulled aside to hear news before anyone else it meant 1) it was bad and 2) it was particularly bad for her._

_"Hear what, sir?" What could have happened? Her father was dead, and her husband was a spy on lam. What other things could possible go wrong in her life?_

"_Has Reddington spoken to you this morning?" Her heart sped up. Reddington. She'd left him alone with Tom last night. Had something happened to him?_

"_No, sir. He called, but I haven't returned it yet." Was he hurt? Was he…she couldn't even bring herself to think it._

"_Yes, he mentioned that. He also requested that I pass along his sincerest apologizes that he couldn't deliver this news in person." Cooper's response calmed her internal panic, but left her as confused as ever._

"_What news?" What did Red have to share that couldn't wait until she called him back?_

"_According to the terms of his agreement, Reddington is entitled to two private security details of his choosing. Ever since Luli's passing he's made do with Dembe, but he now wants to hire a replacement." Cooper stopped and waited, seemingly assessing her expression. Liz had no idea what he was looking for. This wasn't exactly earth-shattering news for her. She was confident Red would pick someone trustworthy, or at least loyal to him, and beyond that she didn't really care. She's had never exchanged a single word with Luli and no more than a few dozen with Dembe._

"_I'm sorry sir, I don't see how this connects to me." What did it matter to her who Red's new shadow was?_

"_Because the man he wants to hire is Thomas Vincent Keen." Liz sat in silence for ten full seconds. Her first reaction was that she'd misheard, but when Cooper didn't correct himself, she was forced to abandon that theory. Her second thought was that this was a belated April Fool's prank or perhaps a hazing ritual. Cooper's apologetic, but firm countenance seemed to reject those options as well. This was really happening._

"_No." It was unbelievable. It was unthinkable._

"_Agent Keen-" Her two-faced, lying husband, here, every day, at the Post Office? This only place where she was supposed to be safe from the painful memories of her shattered life!_

"_No, you can't be serious!" How could Cooper be considering this? It was insanity._

"_Agent Keen, lower your voice." Lower her voice? What was she, a child throwing a temper tantrum over eating her vegetables?!_

"_IT'S AGENT SCOTT!" Why was Cooper being so dense! The man would bring them nothing but pain! Wasn't she living proof of that?!_

"_Agent Scott, I realize this is difficult for you, but I have to make decisions based on what I think is best for this country as a whole. Reddington has made it abundantly clear that he will not bend on this issue." So that was it? It was decided and it didn't matter what she had to say? She was expected to…what exactly? Suck it up? Be a team player? Not this time._

"_Difficult? Finding out someone put cameras in my house and spied on my every move; that was difficult. My father dying in a hospital while I was busy working a case; that was difficult. Not adopting baby that I've wanted for so long; that was difficult. Being nearly shot, blown up, and melted into chemical stew; DIFFICULT. I've put up with all of it, because what we do is important to this country, but I have reached my limit. To hell with you and to hell with Reddington."_

Liz had left the Post Office, stopped by her house to change her clothes, and headed straight to the gym to work out her aggressions. She figured it was probably a better career move than slugging her boss. Jab, jab, right cross. The bag rocked with the force of her blow and she had to stop and steady it.

"Picturing anyone in particular?" Just when she was starting to cool down a little, the true source of her anger had to arrive. No, that wasn't quite right. The true source of her anger was Tom, Reddington was just a close second.

"What do you think?" She started the combination again without looking at him.

"I think you need to stop ignoring my phone calls. The day may come when not picking up might cost you your life." Life? What life?

"My life? You must be confusing me with someone else, because I don't have a life. I am puppet whose strings you yank in whatever way pleases you." Reddington talked a lot about protecting her, but his methods left a lot to be desired.

"Lizzie, I didn't make this decision lightly." It was good to know he actually thought about the emotional trauma this would cost her before choosing to inflict it.

"But you did make it. You chose to put that man back in my life, after everything he did to me." It was unfathomable that after months of hearing nothing from Red except how Tom shouldn't be trusted, that Reddington was foisting him upon her in this way.

"Yes. I know you don't believe me, but this is in your best interest." She was so sick of the patronizing bullshit. Anytime Red did something she didn't like, or refused to answer a question, it was always the same line of crap: It was all for her own good, and she needed to trust him.

"You're right, I don't believe you." How could Reddington possibly think that Tom's presence in her life would be anything other than completely destructive?

"Lizzie, the people Tom used to work will come for you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day they WILL come. I intend to do everything in my power to keep you safe from them." Anything of course except explain why these people were after her in the first place.

"And how is Tom going to keep me safe?" She would love to hear this rationalization.

"He knows Berlin, how they think, how they operate. He can protect you from them." What was he talking about?

"Protect me? He's your bodyguard." How was Red's private security supposed to protect her?

"Officially speaking, yes. Unofficially, he's YOUR bodyguard." Liz struggled to process that statement.

"What does that mean?" Red was hiring TOM to protect her. RED was hiring TOM to protect her. RED was hiring TOM to PROTECT HER. No matter how many times she repeated it to herself, it still didn't compute.

"That his job is to ensure your safety at all times. Here." Reddington handed her a small rectangular box that she hadn't even realized he'd been holding. She opened the box and found a simple, but elegant woman's watch inside. Naturally it was exactly to her taste. She guessed it had cost at least five times what she'd consider spending on an accessary.

"If you think giving me a present is going to make this better-" Red waved a hand to cut her off.

"It's a panic button. You press the crown if you're in distress. It's also equipped with GPS. Tom will know where you are at all times." That wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

"Don't you think that's a bit of a risk? What's to stop him from selling me out to his old bosses?" If she'd learned anything about her fake husband, it was that he had no sense of loyalty what so ever. How do you trust a man like that?

"I have complete confidence in Tom's commitment to this assignment. I wouldn't be doing this otherwise. I told you before, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?" That was the question, wasn't it? Reddington was secretive. He was a criminal and a murderer. He was a self-admitted monster, and yet he was other things as well. He was the man who told her the truth, whether or not she wanted to hear it. He was the man she'd gone to for comfort whenever darkness touched her life. He was the man who spent days rebuilding a music box to comfort her in her darkest hour. He was the man who'd held her as she cried. Did she trust him? For better or for worse, the answer was yes. God help her.


	5. Jealousy (Tom's POV)

"I don't like this," Agent Ressler's voice complained in Tom's ear. Tom privately agreed, not that he'd ever admit it out loud. In the two months since he'd become Liz's bodyguard he hadn't made much progress winning over her colleagues. The ginger suit had been particularly icy towards him. He hadn't been in the Post Office for more than ten minutes before Agent Ressler informed that if he so much as looked at Liz sideways, he'd put a bullet between his eyes. In some ways it was reassuring to know Liz's co-workers cared about her well-being, but Tom would have preferred it if Malik had threatened him, rather than the all-American boy. Something about Ressler rubbed Tom the wrong way, and the feeling was clearly mutual.

"This is our first real lead on Berlin." As much as Tom would like to attribute Liz's lack of objection to a growing trust in him, he knew Liz was going along with the plan for the same reason she did most things sane people would consider bad ideas: Reddington. Liz's faith in that psychopath was the only reason she tolerated his continued presence on her life.

"I get that, I just don't like the idea of you in there alone with him." Tom had had about enough of Ressler's crap.

"Hendricks is a paranoid ex-spy. If we don't go in alone he will know and the whole plan will go to shit."

"Says you." Tom choose to ignore the jibe. The FBI agent wouldn't believe Tom if he told him grass was green, and that wasn't going to change any time soon.

Their target this evening was Christopher Hendricks, former intelligence officer turned "agent of ex-spies". Tom had meet Hendricks five years ago, not long after he'd been burned by the US government. He'd need the work and at the time it had seemed like a smart play. For the first time Tom had the freedom to choose his assignments. He didn't have to blindly follow orders anymore, and he was beholden to no one. It had been ideal, until one day he'd agreed to interview for a deep cover surveillance assignment. He had reservations about the job, namely the mysterious client, but the potential pay day was 20 million. With that kind of money Tom could disappear, leave the game for good. It wasn't until after he'd gotten the job that he'd realized the terrible mistake he'd made.

Tom had been undercover for just a few weeks when he'd realized that this particular mission should not have fallen to him. He and Liz had spent their first night together and when he'd woken up she'd gone to work. He'd gone to his closet, looked down and seen that Liz had drawn a small heart on the dust on his brown shoes. As he'd stared at that heart he'd known that he had succeeded, that Elizabeth Scott had fallen in love with a figment of his imagination. He should have felt satisfaction at a job well done, but instead he'd felt inexplicably sad. Tom had felt remorse for what he'd done to this woman and that had set off all kinds of alarm bells. He'd felt certain that if he continued down this course that crack in his defenses would one day become a gaping hole.

He contacted his handlers and requested to terminate the contract. Their response had been to send him pictures of his brother and his family. The message had been clear: "You don't work for us, we OWN you." Whatever Tom had been expecting, it hadn't been that. Tom hadn't realized that Berlin knew his real identity. The only person in the world who had the information, besides himself, was Hendricks.

Tom was looking forward to getting payback on the man who'd sold him out, but he had reservations about how exactly that payback was going to be achieved. Tom had provided Reddington with the information on Hendricks and the Reddington had proposed a mission to the team. Tom would meet with Hendricks, on the pretext of introducing him to a new potential "client". The "client" Reddington had in mind was Liz. Liz would distract Hendricks while Tom copied the information from Hendrick's smart phone. They'd use the data to track down Hendrick's "clients" at least a few of which must have been traded to Berlin. The plan was smart, but Tom didn't relish the idea of working a mission while simultaneously protecting Liz. He'd have a hard enough focusing as it was.

Twenty minutes ago Tom had been waiting for Liz in front of what used to be his house. After thirty seconds Liz had emerged and it had taken all of Tom's considerable training not to react. This evening Liz was wearing three inch heels and a skin tight strapless red dress that Tom had never seen before in his life. It was so…un-Liz. Liz usually wore dresses that were simple, and classic. Her current ensemble was…well… "classic" wasn't exactly the first word that came to mind. He suspected Liz has chosen her outfit with the express intention of becoming a distraction for Hendricks. He doubted she realized that she had also become a distraction for him as well.

"We're at the entrance," Tom announced for Ressler's benefit, pulling the black Mercedes to the curb. He looked at Liz, who was staring out of the windshield. "You good?" Liz snapped back into the present and shot him a withering glance that made him regret asking the question.

Tom exited the car, tossed the keys to the valet, and moved to open the door for Liz. Together they strode to the front of the velvet ropes. One look at Liz was all it took to jump the line of hopefuls, who had no doubt been standing there for hours.

Once they'd entered the club it didn't take Tom long to spot Hendricks entertaining a couple of blondes who were roughly half his age. He bent down until his lips were next Liz's ear while moving his right hand to the small of her back. Anyone watching would think he was her lover, whispering intimate things into her ear. He could feel the heat of her body radiating through the fabric.

"I'll make the approach and signal you when its time." Liz's lips curved into a flirtatious smile that did not reach her eyes and leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

"I'll be at the bar. Oh…and if you touch me again when it's not absolutely necessary, I'll make you very, very, sorry." Liz sauntered off toward her destination and Tom resisted the urge to admire her retreating form. Hendricks was the priority.

Tom's former agent didn't notice Tom until he was twenty feet from the booth. The man was definitely losing his edge.

"Hendricks. It's been a long time. Ladies, if you would excuse us?" The blonde duo looked to Hendricks for direction, who nodded his assent.

"I'll catch up with you girls later." After the girls had left Tom took their place in the booth. "My God it's been years. So who are we today?" It had been a custom between them in the days before Berlin for Hendricks to address Tom by whatever alias he was currently utilizing. It had been a security precaution on the off chance of surveillance.

"Tom. In the interest of expediency, I'll skip to the point here. I'm here because of Berlin." Hendricks' raised his hands in a gesture of innocence.

"You were the one who accepted the contract, not me. I merely presented you with the offer."

"You failed to mention the strings that would come with it." If any harm had come to his family because of the information Hendricks had revealed, then Hendricks would not have lived long enough to have made it on to Red's "Blacklist". As it stood Reddington had relocated Tom's relatives somewhere known only to him.

"You're a big boy, I knew you'd be able to handle it."

"Your confidence in my abilities is truly gratifying, but it doesn't change the fact that you owe me and I'm here to collect."

"Collect how?" Hendricks' right hand had ever so casually moved to the waistband of his pants, where he was no doubt concealing a weapon.

"I have a new client for you. Someone I owe a favor to." Hendricks raised an eyebrow. Clearly this wasn't the answer he'd expected from Tom.

"And having me take him on squares your debt?"

"SHE is new to this side of the tracks. She lacks the necessary contacts to establish herself in the big leagues." Hendricks' hand return to his drink, obviously accepting the cover story Reddington had concocted.

"She? Well, now I am intrigued. You've worked with her before?" He sipped his drink and waited for Tom's response.

"A few times." Hendricks knew that Tom rarely worked with partners, so stating he'd worked with Liz more than once was glowing reference.

"That's unusual for you, working with a rookie. I think I'd like to meet this woman." Tom turned his focus to the other side of the club, searching for the red dress through the mob. It didn't take long to spot her, holding a margarita and smiling at dark-haired man in an expensive suit. Liz laughed at something the man said and touched his arm. Tom felt a flare of jealousy, so random and intense that it shocked him. He pushed down the emotion with difficulty.

"Well then you're in luck." Liz, who had apparently been listening turned towards him and they locked eyes. Tom waved her over.

"Mr. Hendricks, I presume. I'm Nikki Donovan." Hendricks' eyes slowly rolled over every inch of Liz's body. Tom reminded himself that this was part of the plan, that it was good that Liz's physical appearance was such a distraction. The knowledge didn't stop him from wanting to slam the man's head into the table for the lewd thoughts Hendricks was undoubtedly having about his wife. No, not about his wife, about LIZ, who wasn't his wife any more. It was amazing how often he needed to remind himself of that fact.

"I have that good fortune. Please sit. I was just remarking to Tom how unusual it was for him to have taken on a partner, but I can see why he made the exception." Liz nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"I wouldn't exactly call us partners." Liz slid into the booth, stopping a mere four inches from Hendricks.

"Then how would you phrase it?" Hendricks was leaning in to her, completely ignoring Tom's presence.

"Two people whose agendas occasionally overlap to our mutual benefit." The phone was in Hendricks' jacket pocket, which he was still wearing despite the sweltering heat of the club. As much as Tom would have preferred to knock Hendricks out, grab the phone and leave they needed to accomplish their mission without Hendricks realizing what they had done. If Hendricks knew the list had been comprised he would warn his clients and they would all go to ground.

"Interesting. And do you think that we could be two people whose agendas overlap to our mutual benefit?" Hendricks moved even closer to Liz, who smiled in response.

"Well that depends entirely on you."

"Does it? I wasn't aware your non-partner Tom was giving me a choice." For the first in nearly a minute Hendricks' eyes were back on him.

"Tom may have been over-enthusiastic on my behalf. I only wanted the interview. His debt to me and your debt to him is wiped whether or not you agree to take me on a client."

"Is that the case Tom?" Tom forced a smile and inclined his head.

"I make it a point never to argue with Nikki."

"Interesting. In that case Nikki, would you object to an audition? Just a small test of what I'm sure are your impressive skills."

"Not at all."

"Good. You see that man over there, the one you so callously abandoned when Tom beckoned? I want you to steal his watch." Tom glanced back at the man Hendricks at selected. A stunning blonde had already taking the place Liz had vacated and at least two other women were attempting to steal his attention. If he was getting that kind of notice in a place like this, he was very likely loaded. Businessman? No, stockbroker. Definitely someone who liked to flash his cash. The watch Hendricks had demanded would be expensive, worth at least a few grand.

"No problem. Tom, come on and make yourself useful." Tom concealed his surprised as Liz took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. She began to sway her hips to the music. Tom took her cue and began to move as well.

"What are you doing?"

"Auditioning. Now get your ass over here and pretend that you want me. It's not like you don't have experience." Liz spun so her back was to him and moved slowly toward him until she was pressed up against him. Not one to resist such an invitation Tom snaked a hand around her waist.

"Sorry, I didn't realize this qualified as "strictly necessary.""

"Trust me, it is. In about one minute the guy at the bar is going to ditch the girl he's chatting up and cut in." Tom snuck another glance at the man at the bar and Liz's target seemed fully engaged with the blonde, whose body language screamed that she was ready to go home with him.

"Are you sure?" Liz was undeniably gorgeous, but she had blown the stockbroker off. Why would the man risk the sure thing he had in front of him? Suddenly Liz's target's eyes shifted focus, from the blonde to Liz. Tom recognized the predatory glint of lust. Tom arms instinctive tightened around Liz and he spun her so she was once again facing him.

"Hard though it may be for you to imagine, some men are genuinely attracted to me. Add that to the fact I'm clearly here with someone else makes me irresistible to someone like him. He's the kind of man who likes to win. Stealing me from you is half of the attraction. Now, when he comes over put up a little bit of a fight, it will make it easier for me. Afterwards get back to the table make the copy and return the phone to his left pocket."

"I don't have the phone yet."

"Yes, you do. It's in your jacket." Before Tom could respond the man from the bar appeared at their side.

"Sorry to interrupt, but the lady and I never finished our drink earlier." One look at the jackass' smirk told Tom that Liz had been right about him. This was the face of a man who took special pleasure in taking things that belonged to other people.

"She's not interested." It was nice that for once he was able to allow his jealousy and irritation come through without suspicion.

"I'm sure the lady can speak for herself." Tom was equally sure she could, but for the moment Liz was opting not to. She was undoubtedly waiting for the fight to escalate before cutting it off. It made sense, given that the harder her mark worked to 'win her' the more he'd value his prize.

"She's with me." Tom was careful not to go too overboard with the undercurrent of threat in his tone. He was fully aware that if he'd wanted to he could send this man scurrying back to the blonde, but that wasn't the goal here.

"I don't see a ring on her finger." The retort should have been meaningless, but it struck a still raw nerve. There had been a ring on Liz's finger. She had belonged to him once. For a brief moment Tom's felt his façade crack and the man took an instinctive step backward. Liz shot him a brief warning look. Tom quickly adjusted his gaze from murderous assassin to pissed boyfriend.

"You know what Tom, he's right. We aren't married." Liz smiled at her mark. "Let's go have that drink." The man's eyes left Tom and returned to Liz, and he allowed her to lead him away.

Tom returned to the booth, making sure he took Liz's former place on Hendrick's left. He still couldn't figure out how the hell had Liz managed to steal the phone and slip it into his jacket without him noticing. Tom knew from his investigations that in Liz's youth she'd had a "Bonnie and Clyde" thing with a small time thief named Frank. Liz apparently learned a few things from their time together.

"Nicely done, Tom. I could almost believe you're her jealous lover." Tom slipped a hand into his pocket and connected the device Malik had provided to the device.

"We're in," Aram's voice announced in his ear.

"I don't get jealous." Tom missed the days when that was actually true. Before Liz he'd never let a woman matter enough to care if other men also wanted her. Now he found he was jealous of almost everyone in Liz's life. Most of it wasn't sexual jealousy, although from time to time he had unpleasant musings about Ressler. Aram, Malik, Cooper, and even Dembe all got to interact with Liz. She felt some degree of affection for them. She smiled at them, joked with them, and didn't flinch from incidental physical contact. Reddington was the worse, because he had Liz's confidence. Her trust. Tom wanted that back more than anything in the entire world.

"But you are her lover?" Hendricks was clearly baiting him, but that was fine by Tom. If the man was working to get a rise out of him, he'd be less likely to notice the missing phone.

"None of your damn business, Hendricks." Tom surveyed Liz's progress. She'd finished her drink and was pulling the man to the dance floor in the same manner she had dragged him a few minutes before. He knew he shouldn't watch but he couldn't help himself. Liz danced seductively, pulling her target closer. Tom bit the inside of his cheek as the mark's hands slid from Liz's waist down to her ass.

"We've got the files." The FBI tech's voice provided a welcome distraction. Tom's hand returned to his pocket and he unplugged the device.

"I hoping to make it my business. Nikki is quite tempting." Hendricks eyed Liz with the same hunger he'd seen in the stockbroker. Tom controlled his rising temper and slipped the phone back into Hendricks pocket. Mission accomplished.

"I hope this is not your way of asking my permission to screw her, because Nikki will string us both up by our balls." With his task complete Tom's gaze returned to Liz. She seemed to be whispering something into her target ear. He nodded and with a long last leer he headed toward the club entrance.

"Would she? Interesting." Liz sauntered over to the table and extended her right hand to Hendricks, who immediately took it. Liz clasped her left hand to his wrist as she gave him a hearty handshake.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Hendricks. I'll be staying at the Willard Hotel for the next two nights. I hope to hear from you soon." When Liz removed her hand a second watch had materialized on Hendricks' wrist. Liz turned to him. "Tom, if you wouldn't mind getting the car and meeting me out back. I'd rather avoid running into my new friend." Liz turned and vanished into the sea of gyrating bodies without waiting for his reply.

Tom said his own goodbye to Hendricks and left the club, deftly avoiding the bewildered stockbroker as he returned and began scanning the dance floor for Liz. Tom had to admit the sight brought Tom a little satisfaction. His personal feelings aside, he had to admire Liz's skill. One of the very few good things about his new relationship with Liz was that he got to see an entirely new side to her. Knowing Liz was FBI was one thing, but watching her work was something else. The Liz Keen who'd bought him silly toys, and couldn't cook to save her life was completely different from Agent Scott. Agent Scott was tough, fearless, skilled, and a little ruthless. In some ways Liz had been hiding herself from him every bit as much as he'd hidden himself from her. He understood why she'd done it. The Tom Keen she'd thought she'd known would never have understood this side of her. His real self, on the other hand, not only understood, but accepted it. Hell, he found it sexy. He was much better suited to be Liz's husband than Tom Keen ever was. He was nothing that she thought she wanted, and everything that she needed. Shame that he had about a snowball's chance in hell of getting her to realize that.


	6. Small Talk (Liz's POV)

Liz's heart was pounding in time with the music of the club. By now she knew the rush all too well, the adrenaline high that came with missions like these. Liz wished she could tell herself the energy coursing through every part of her body could all be attributed to that, but she knew it would be a lie. This wasn't residual nerves, it was anxiety over what was coming next. The thought of spending the next 48 hours alone with Tom was a far more daunting prospect than pick-pocketing Hendricks had been. Maybe it was because she knew how to handle Hendricks.

Liz had never considered herself a femme fatale. She didn't seduce men as a matter of course. She could, she knew that from her short career as a grifter, but as a grown woman it had never been her style. One night stands were never her thing. She'd wanted a partner, a husband, someone to start a family with. The men who wanted an affair with a fantasy sex goddess were pointed toward the door. Liz was always up front with men, and she'd never understood the women that played those kind of games. She understood now. Having that kind of power over a man felt good. It felt like control, which was something she so infrequently had these days. The stockbroker and Hendricks had been easy; easy to play, easy to rob, just…easy. At her mercy. Why couldn't Tom be the same?

When Tom had picked her up tonight, she might as well have been wearing sweats, for all the reaction he had given. Not that she'd picked the dress to bait him. Not at all. She was a professional. It just pissed her off that as much as she hated her former faux husband, she couldn't stop her pulse from speeding up when she'd seen him in his crisp black suit. He'd looked…good, every inch the sexy secret agent he'd once denied being. She'd wanted him, and she hated herself for that. She had closed her mind and her heart to this man, and yet Tom's hand on the small of her back still sent shivers down her spine.

Liz could blame it on her dry spell, she was after all going on almost three months of celibacy, but then why didn't she have the same response to the stockbroker? Why was dancing in Tom's arms so different from dancing in the arms of a handsome stranger? Why, after everything Tom had done to her, couldn't she stop wanting him? Why was the universe so unfair, to put her through this and let him feel nothing. Or maybe it wasn't so unfair.

There had been a moment tonight, when the stockbroker's taunts seemed to pierce Tom's inscrutable façade. Physically Tom hadn't made a move, but the way he'd looked at the man…It had been terrifying. No, that wasn't right. It had been terrifying for the stockbroker. She had felt surprise, then irritation, and then…confusion. What had that look meant? Had she imagined it? Why did it even matter to her?

Headlights announced Tom's arrival. The Mercedes pulled over to the curb, and she slide inside, deliberately not looking him. They rode together for thirty seconds before Tom broke the silence.

"Aram got the data." Liz ground her teeth. She was not in the mood for small talk.

"I heard." She hoped Tom would take the hint and shut up. He was smart, and a self-proclaimed expert on reading her facial expressions. He should be able to figure out she did not want to speak to him.

"Nice work in there, with Hendricks and the stockbroker. You played them both very well." What was going on? Tom was giving her complements on her job performance? Was she supposed to be flattered?

"Gee, thanks Tom. Means a lot coming from you." If Tom's goal was to piss her off, he was succeeding admirably. By complementing her seduction skills, Liz was immediately reminded of Tom's. Memories of how skillfully he'd played her were now fresh in her mind. Recollections she'd pushed down, hoping to never relive again were floating to the surface. Liz could feel the blood pumping harder in her veins and this time it had nothing to do with Tom's physical appearance.

"How's Hudson?" Liz's head whipped to face him, unable to believe what she had just heard. Tom KNEW their old life together was a taboo topic between them. He'd gone too far.

"What the hell do you care?!" The only reason working with Tom was bearable was that he never spoke of their history. What had changed? Why was he doing this to her now?

Tom didn't answer immediately, although Liz thought she noticed his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"Liz, for the next few days I am, for all intents and purposes your partner. Do you think it is possible we could have a single conversation without your biting my head off?" Partner? Was that what he thought they were? If so he was seriously mistaken.

"We are not partners. We are not a team. Ressler, Aram, Cooper, Meera? THEY are my partners. THEY are my team. You are liar, and a murderer, and a traitor." Unbidden the memory of her first fight with Reddington popped into her. She'd once said something similar to him, right before she'd stabbed him with a pen.

"And what about Reddington? Isn't he a liar and a murderer, and a traitor?" Liz was slightly taken aback by the comment. Tom hadn't even been looking at her, and yet he'd been able to read her mind.

"That's different." There were superficial parallels between the situations: Red and Tom were both deadly criminals with whom had to work in service of a greater good, but her personal relationships with the two men couldn't be more different.

"How is it different? Why is it that you trust him, but you don't trust me?" Was he serious? How, after everything he'd done to her, could he ask her that? Did he think that over two years of betrayal would be so easier forgiven and forgotten?

"Because he has never lied to me." Red might not always tell her the whole truth, but what he did tell her, she could believe. He had never hidden who he was from her and he genuinely seemed to care about her. None of those things were true of Tom.

"We've got a tail. Three cars back. Grey van." Liz's eyes immediate flew to the side mirror. She hadn't noticed the car, but if Tom said it was following them, it probably was. She had little to no trust in Tom personally, but the past months had given her a grudging respect for his skills as a spy.

"I'll call Red." Liz pulled out her phone and dialed the number of Red's latest burner.

"Put it on speaker." Liz considered ignoring Tom's request, but that would mean she would have to relay Red's instructions once she hung up.

"Lizzie, I hear congratulations are in order. Aram was kind enough to forward me the list of names and I'm going through them as we speak. Are you heading back to the hotel? Be sure to order the crab cakes from room service, they are absolutely divine." Liz allowed herself a small smile at the sound of Red's voice. It was a constant surprise how much of a comfort he was to her. Red had brought danger into her life, but he'd also brought humor, and a zest for life.

"We have a tail. It could be Hendricks checking up on Liz's cover, or it could be something else. What do you want me to do?" Tom's voice had taken on the edge it always had when he spoke to Red. Liz had no idea what had gone on between them the night that she'd left them alone together, but whatever it was hadn't transformed them into the best of friends.

"Don't lose him. If it is Hendricks we don't want to spook him into alerting his clients." Liz nodded her agreement, but Tom's scowl became more pronounced.

"And if it's not?" Liz tensed. Berlin had yet to make a move against Red or the task force, and that made her extremely nervous. The blacklisters they chased every week were dangerous, but they were real people, people she could fight. Berlin was starting to feel like a malevolent ghost that would never stop haunting her.

"Then this might be a unique opportunity for us. Lizzy, contact Agent Ressler. Tell him his night isn't over just yet." The muscles in Liz's shoulder unknotted slightly. Of course Red had a plan. He always did.


	7. The Show Must Go On (Tom's POV)

Tom stood at the window of the hotel suite, gazing out at the lights D.C. His enjoyment of the spectacular view was somewhat lessened by his growing certainty he was being watched. Whoever was in that van was out there right now, observing through a scope of some kind. It made him feel exposed, vulnerable. On the positive side, if they had been there to kill him, he'd be dead by now. Maybe this really was just Hendricks.

He heard Liz's footsteps as she approached from behind him, and inhaled the subtle scent of her perfume. Tom's heart pounded in his chest as she sidled up next to him, her bare arm brushing the sleeve of his jacket. He knew what was supposed to come next, they both did, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to act. He was afraid of what would happen if he did. Tom had already lost control once tonight. He didn't want to risk losing it again.

"Tom?" He knew what she was asking. He was supposed to initiate. Damn Reddington and his oh, so meticulous plans. Tom couldn't help thinking that this whole mission was an excuse for the "concierge of crime" to torture him. It was probably an unfounded suspicion, but it made him feel better to have someone to blame. He needed to stop procrastinating. He was a professional. He could do this. The show must go on.

Tom turned to face his former wife. She still wore the tight red dress, but she's kicked off her heels, and was now barefoot on the room's carpet. The sight reminded Tom of how much Liz loved the walking on the beach, the wet sand and salt water between her toes. For their honeymoon they'd gone to North Carolina, stayed in a small house on this tiny island off the coast. He could still remember holding her hand as they'd walked together in the tide, splashing, and laughing. He wanted that again so much.

Tom slowly reached out and took hold of Liz's fingers. She looked up at him, surprise in her eyes. She had been anticipating something a bit more aggressive, but he found he couldn't treat Liz the same way he treated Gina once upon a time, not even in pretense. He reached out his left hand and cupped the curve of her face.

He watched the emotions flit through her eyes as he lowered his lips to hers; confusion, anger, sadness. When his mouth touched hers saw something else, something he thought he'd never see in her eyes ever again…desire. In that moment he forgot at about the spectators and remembered only the nights he'd spent as Tom Keen, the hours he'd spent in bed with woman he now pulled firmly into his arms.

He kissed her like he'd spent months in a desert and her lips were the water he'd been craving so desperately. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that she was kissing him back, just as passionately. This wasn't the way she kissed him when they'd renewed their vows. This wasn't the way she kissed him when he'd caught her by Ike, no doubt replacing the key he'd hidden in the base. He'd known she'd figured out the truth and he'd tried to force her to confront him. Instead she'd chosen to sleep with him, to persuade him that nothing was wrong. The irony was that it had proved the opposite. His wife didn't trust him enough to confront him about her suspicions, and that meant that everything was wrong. He'd left that night, while she slept. He hadn't wanted to face her after what he'd done.

The memory of that night was like a bucket of ice water. Liz wanted him, and God knew he wanted her, but this wasn't right. Maybe he could persuade her into bed with him tonight, but tomorrow she'd wake up, hating herself and him all the more. He needed to shut this down, now. Tom continued to kiss Liz as his hands groped for the curtains. With a good yank he moved the fabric so any observers would be blind to what was happening in the room. He stepped away from Liz, his breathing slightly ragged. They stared at each other for a few seconds, not staying anything. He broke the silence with the first thing he could think of.

"I'm going to go shower. Unless you want to go first?" A cold shower; that was ticket. One really long, really cold shower, and hopefully he'd stop feeling like a teenager in post-prom heat.

"I'm good. I'll order the room service. Anything you want?" He blinked. Those were the most civil three sentences Liz had said to him since that night in the warehouse.

"Coffee." Tom started to walk into the suite's adjoining bedroom, but Liz's voice stopped him.

"How do you take it? Your coffee." Tom looked at her, confused.

"You know how I take my coffee." They been married for almost three years. They'd eaten hundreds of breakfasts together and he'd always drank his coffee black.

"No, I know how Tom Keen took his coffee. I don't know how you take yours." Tom suddenly understood Liz's inquiry. Liz thought of "Tom Keen" as being a completely separate entity from him. She didn't understand that there were overlaps, commonalities, some small and some quite large.

"It's the same. A lot of things are the same." Could she hear the words he couldn't say to her, the words he promised himself he wouldn't say? Would it matter to her if she did? Liz gazed at him a moment, then nodded and walked over the desk, where the phone rested.

Tom forced himself to turn and head into the suite's adjoining bedroom. He opened the bags Dembe had thrown into his trunk earlier that evening and pulled out jeans and sweater. Neither of them would be sleeping tonight so pajamas would be pointless.

As he stripped and turned on the water Tom's mind drifted to other showers he'd had, showers he'd shared with his wife. He remembered the way she'd tilt her head, smiling that mischievous grin of hers. She'd put her arms around his neck and…Tom sighed and cranked the dial to cold. It was going to be a long night.


	8. Trust (Liz's POV)

As Liz returned the room phone to its cradle, she heard the shower turn on in the next room. She was safe for the next few minutes. Safe. She mentally winced at the word, even as she had to acknowledge its accuracy. She wasn't safe with Tom. The irony was that it wasn't because he was a dangerous killer. Strange as it was, that didn't frighten her, she accepted that about him, much the way she accepted it about Reddington. Perhaps it was because, like Reddington, her body didn't recognize him as a threat. No, her body had different impulses when it came to Tom.

Liz caught sight of her reflection in a mirror mounted on the wall of the suite. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and her lipstick was slightly smudged. She gently touched her mouth, remembering the passionate caresses that had caused the smear.

It was a mistake to agree to Reddington's plan. The second he'd proposed making a scene for the tail, she should have said no. She hadn't because logically the cover had made sense. They needed to stay in the same hotel room, for security reasons, and the easiest explanation for a man and woman to share a hotel room was that they were lovers. If she'd objected, Reddington and Tom would have known it was for personal reasons. She hadn't been willing to withstand the humiliation that would follow that tacit admission of weakness. She told herself that she could handle it. She HAD handled it before, after Craig had died. Liz had assumed this would be the same. It hadn't been.

Tom had begun by taking her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as he had a thousand time before. She'd been surprised. Tom's new cover was as Nikki Donavan's sometimes lover, not Elizabeth Keen's husband. He was supposed to be himself: a killer, an assassin. He wasn't supposed to be gentle with her, and he definitely wasn't supposed to look at her that way he had. She'd looked into his eyes and felt…cherished. Adored. Loved. It had made her so angry that she'd nearly punched him in the face. Even with her complete awareness that this was deception, she could not detect the deceit in Tom's eyes. That had made her simultaneous furious and sad, because if she couldn't tell the difference, how would she ever be able to start again with anyone else? How would she be able to trust a feeling ever again? Then Tom's lips had brushed hers and everything else had ceased to matter.

Last time the fresh betrayal had protected her from her desire for him. She'd been able to lock her mind and heart away from him. She'd been affected, of course. He knew her body too well, and physically she'd been…satisfied. That fact had made her feel more filthy than she'd ever felt in her life.

Kissing Tom this time hadn't felt filthy at all, it had felt...good. More than good. It was like walking into a warm house after trudging miles through the snow. For months she had been cold, but she'd gradually become accustomed to it. She'd forgotten what it was to be warm, until Tom had reminded her. She'd melted into his arms, not caring about anything except how gloriously alive she felt when he kissed her.

The strange this was that she could have sworn he'd felt the same, that somehow they were in this together, riding that same high, sharing that same need. Then he'd stopped. He'd pulled the curtains, broke away from her, just as Reddington had told him to. It would have been a humiliating moment, if not for the way Tom had been breathing, ragged and unsteady. It was proof that she had not been the only one who'd gotten carried away. She knew now, on no uncertain terms, that Tom wanted her, and that was why Liz's present circumstances so dangerous.

The continued noise of the shower made Liz acutely aware that Tom was less than a 40 feet away, naked as the day he'd come into this world. It was her personal siren's call. She could go to him now, give into temptation. No one would know. Maybe it would give her some closure, put an end to the dreams that continued to haunt her sleep. What would be the harm?

Liz rolled her eyes at her own reflection. Who was she kidding? The woman staring back at her didn't give a shit about closure. She wanted what she wanted and screw the consequences. Nikki Donavon must have rubbed off on her a little.

She had to get out of the dress and back into her own clothes before she did something profoundly stupid. Liz entered the bedroom, her eyes quickly locating the bags Tom had carried up into the room. They were already open, Tom undoubtedly having already grabbed clothes to change into once his shower was done. That was something at least, she didn't need to worry he was going to burst out of the on-suite bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, or even worse, his birthday suit.

She rummaged through the bag, until her hands found something silky. Slowly she pulled a lacy black negligee from the suitcase. What. The. Hell. Who had packed these bags?

"Liz?" Liz's head jerked up to see Tom standing in the door of the bathroom staring at her holding the seductive nightwear. Liz's jaw clenched in anger as she raised the offending garment in accusation. Tom blinked twice, processing what he was seeing, then raised his hands in a gesture of innocence, "I didn't pack those. Complain to Dembe." Liz scowled and dumped the rest of the bag's contents on the bed, fishing for something more appropriate. As she searched Tom crossed to the bed to stand beside her. She suddenly became acutely aware they were alone in the bedroom together.

"What?" Liz asked more sharply that she intended.

"May I have the laptop? I want to see if Aram's set up the security feeds yet."

"Sure." Liz passed Tom the bag, and turned her attention back to the task at hand. She heard the door to the main room close behind her as he gave her privacy to change.

Liz emerged a few minutes later in a hoody, jeans, boots and no make-up. Tom glanced up from the couch, where he was typing away on the computer.

"We're up and running. I have all ground floor entrances pulled up." Liz moved to the couch so she could get a better view of the screen.

"What about the roof?" The last thing she wanted was to be taken off guard by some 'Mission Impossible' style tactic.

"No camera, but Ressler says they've got it covered. Agents are in position in the lobby with a few more on this floor." So Tom had had the same thought she did. Why was she not surprised?

Liz's glance slid to Tom, who seemed completely absorbed by the images on screen. She hadn't realized before, but he'd changed into a green sweater and jeans. She hadn't seen him wear something that casual since before he'd left her. She'd grown accustom to seeing him in suits in the months he'd been working as her bodyguard.

She'd been grateful for the slight change in appearance, which, along with the lack of glasses, had helped her separate him from his Tom Keen persona. She'd assumed he'd reverted into his preferred look, but he looked just as comfortable now, in clothes that could easily have belonged to her husband. She thought back to Tom's earlier comment, that much of what she knew of Tom Keen was true of him. The question was, how much?

"Glasses or contacts?" Liz regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, but there was no unringing the bell.

"What?" Tom turned toward her, his face the picture of confusion.

"I was asking if you preferred glasses or contacts. You said there were things that were the same. I had assumed you prefer contacts, since I've never seen you wear glasses, but I wanted to check." Tom was quiet a moment, considering her question, or perhaps trying to work out the rationale behind her asking it.

"Your assumption was wrong. Contacts are more practical in my line of work, but I prefer glasses. They are more comfortable." He looked at her expectantly. Could she go on? Did he want her to go on?

"Is that why you wore them as Tom Keen?" Tom's mouth tightened slightly. This wasn't a question he wanted to answer.

"No. I wore them as Tom Keen because I thought they would soften my appearance, make me look more approachable." Manipulation. The Warby-Parker glasses that she'd thought of as being nerdy in the cutest of ways had been manipulation. It was a painful reminder of how staged their meeting had been.

"I see." This had been a bad idea. Why did she need to torture herself over this? She should just focus on mission. That was definitely the smartest course of action.

"Did you have more questions, or have you reverted back to the silent treatment because I gave you an honest answer? As I recall honesty was the basis upon which you established trust with Reddington." It was impossible to miss the sardonic tone in Tom's word. He was calling her response childish. Was it?

"Is that what we're doing? Establishing trust?" Liz thought back to their conversation in the car. Tom had seemed irritated that she trusted Reddington more than him. Was her trust somehow important to him?

"Your call." Liz considered Tom's offer. The thought of getting answers was definitely appealing.

"Whatever I ask you, you'll tell me the truth?"

"Yes." Yes. Just yes. No conditions, no quid pro quo. It was more than Reddington had ever offered her, assuming it was a genuine offer. There was only one way to find out.

"Okay fine. Tell me what you and Tom have in common." The coffee had caught her off guard. What did she know about this man, that she didn't know she knew?

"Pretty much all non-essential details. Most food preferences, favorite music, movies. The first rule of undercover, as I'm sure you know, is to stick as close to the truth as possible." That made sense. There'd be no point in pretending your favorite ice cream favor is vanilla, when it's really chocolate.

"What's different?" Liz assumed this would be a longer list.

"Apart from my resume? Family, obviously, although ironically my parents are both dead and I do have a brother." Liz's mind returned to the hotel room where she'd grilled "Craig" about Tom. He'd claimed Tom had a brother in Chicago. He'd also said something a woman named "Nikki". Liz had wondered when she'd been supplied with the information whether or not there was any truth to it. Tom might have lied to Craig, Craig may have been lying to her. Apparently Tom was either consistently being honest or consistently regurgitating the same lie. Which one was anyone's guess.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Thirteen years ago." Thirteen years. It was unfathomable to Liz that anyone would could to abandon their family. Tom would have be in his late teens to early twenties. Why had he severed the tie?

"Then what happened?"

"I died. Next question." Died? What did that mean? Unfortunately as much as Liz wanted to know, it was clear from Tom's face that he wasn't interested in revealing anything further. If she pushed he might not be willing to share more and she had many more questions that she wanted answers to.

"Why did you change your mind?" Ever since Cooper had informed her of Red's and Tom's new arrangement she had wondered how it had come to be. When she'd left them that night, she'd assumed she'd never see Tom again. He had told her himself he was planning to run. What had happened?

"About what?"

"That night in the warehouse you said Reddington was giving you money, papers, and an exit out of the country. Then next day I found out you'd started working for Reddington. What did he offer you?" How much money had it taken to convince Tom to remain by her side, in plain sight of Berlin?

Tom stared at Liz a long moment before answering, his expression unreadable.

"The opportunity to protect the things I love most in this world." That had not been the response she'd expected. The idea that Tom was capable of loving someone sent a sliver of pain into Liz's heart. It had been easier to accept Tom's betrayal when she'd convinced herself he was a sociopath, incapable of loving anyone. If he was able to love someone else, it made his not caring about her so much worse.

Liz took a deep breath and refocused. She had wanted to know who this man was and she needed to follow through. Who knew when she'd get another opportunity like this again?

"Your brother was in danger?" Was that who Tom had meant? Despite the long separation, blood was still blood. Or was this about "Nikki", the woman Craig had mentioned, and Liz assumed Tom had based her cover ID on?

"And his family. Berlin would have killed them if Reddington hadn't intervened." Liz hated herself for feeling relief that this hadn't been all about another woman. It was completely irrational, but that didn't seem to matter much to her emotions. This was not going well. She needed to do something to stop this softening towards Tom. Learning about him was supposed help her distance herself, not draw her further into his orbit.

"Nice boss. I can see why you chose to work for him." Tom was not an innocent victim, she needed to keep reminding herself of that.

"I accepted the contract with Berlin because I was tired and I was looking for the quickest way to an early retirement." The quickest way to an early retirement? What did that mean? Suddenly it dawned on Liz. Money. Working for Red was about his family, but Berlin had been about money. He'd ruined her life because it paid well.

"How much?" Liz felt herself getting angry again, but this time she didn't care.

"Liz-" She cut him off. He was not going to spin this. He was not going to explain this away. He was going to answer.

"No, I want to know how much did he pay you to screw me for over two years? How much to report my every move? Betray my every confidence? Make me fall in love with a lie? Destroy my ability to fully trust another living soul ever again?" Every stifled feeling of anger and betrayal rose like an unstoppable tide within her.

"10 million." Ten million dollars. More money than Liz would see in ten lifetimes, just for spending two years of his life with her. Liz couldn't look at him anymore. She stood up, walked into the bedroom, closed the door, and locked it behind her. Liz went to bed and sat on edge. She had thought she was immune to being hurt by him. She had been wrong. After a minute there was a knock on the door.

"Liz, please open the door. I want to finish talking about this." Liz was suddenly reminded of their rule; that neither of them walk out in the middle of a fight. They'd made it so they would never become one of those couple that let disagreements fester between them, silently resenting each other, until it destroyed their marriage. Except there had been no marriage. No them. Not ever. She was his job. The two years of her life had been bought and paid for with 10 million dollars.

"Liz it was a new life and I needed one. An out. I didn't foresee the consequences." Consequences? Consequences for who? Clearly not her. Liz bit lip. She shouldn't ask. Clearly that was what he wanted her to do, which was why she shouldn't ask. Damn him for knowing her so well.

"Like Berlin coming after your family?"

"Berlin was never supposed to know my real name. Hendricks betrayed me." If Tom was looking for sympathy he was both literally and figuratively knocking on the wrong door.

"Gee I wonder what that feels like." Liz couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice, and to her surprise she found she didn't care. She'd spent so much energy holding up the barrier of cold indifference, and she was too tired to do it anymore. What difference did it really make? She doubted she'd fooled Tom even for a moment. He knew her too well.

"If I hadn't taken the contract someone else would have." Liz paused a moment to think about that possibility. He was right. If he'd passed, someone else would have approached her. Would they have been a successful as Tom? In another world was some version of her having this conversation with someone else? Or would things have turned out completely differently? There really was no point in wondering, since this was the reality she was stuck with. He had taken the contract and now they were where they were.

"That's your excuse?"

"What do you want me to say Liz?" Something about Tom's voice had changed, Liz could tell even through the door. He sounded…tired. Like talking about this was exhausting to him. It relit her fury. Liz stalked over to the still locked door and start to yell.

"How about that you are sorry?! That you are sorry that you shattered my life!" Was an apology too much to ask?! Was it unreasonable of her to expect some semblance of repentance from the man who'd destroyed her life?!

"I AM SORRY, LIZ! What the hell do you think I'm doing here?!" Liz's eyes widened in surprise. Tom had yelled. More than that, he had cursed at her. Tom hadn't raised his voice to her since they were married and even then it had been rare. Liz opened the door and found Tom standing right in front of her, looking genuinely pissed.

"What are talking about?!"

"I told you I took this job to protect what I love most, and yes that meant my family, but it also meant you! I LOVE YOU!" Liz wasn't sure how long she stood there staring at Tom, trying to make sense of what she'd just heard. Tom loved her. Tom loved her. Tom loved her. No matter how many times she replayed it in her head, it didn't seem to want to sink in.

"What?" Perhaps not the most articulate of responses, but it was the best she could do at the moment. Tom's eyes flickered down to her lips, and for a second Liz could have sworn he was going to kiss her. They were only inches apart, all he had to do was lean down and… Tom sighed and took a step back, running a hand through his hair.

"I said 'I love you.' I have for a long time now." Hearing the words again was doing strange things to Liz's heart rate. She realized that this was exactly what she wanted to hear from him. It was what she'd wanted to hear from him since the moment she realized he wasn't Tom Keen. She wanted to not have been totally wrong about her husband. She wanted him to have loved her. She wanted him to miss her the way she missed him. The trouble was, given how much she wanted it, she couldn't possibly believe it to be true.

"I…I don't believe you." Tom nodded grimly as though it was the response he expected.

"Did you ever ask Reddington why he hired me to protect you?" Liz looked down at the watch Reddington had given her that day in the gym.

"He said he had 'confidence in your commitment to the assignment.'" She hadn't pushed for clarification, probably because she doubted she would have gotten a response.

"That sounds like him. Reddington doesn't lie to you, but he sure doesn't tell you the whole truth. The reason he is confident in my commitment is because he knows I'm in love with you and he's know it for more than a year, ever since he found out about the passports." Passports? That stirred a memory. She and Red had been in the storage unit, right after Tom had asked to renew their wedding vows. When she'd asked about how Red had known about Tom, Red had said he had ordered three fake passports from Warsaw one year ago.

"Passports? You mean the passports from Warsaw?" For once Tom looked puzzled.

"He told you about them?"

"He told me he learned the truth about you when you commissioned three fake passports from a forger in Warsaw." Tom gave a derisive snort and nodded.

"What he didn't tell you was whose faces were on the passports. There was one for me, one for you, and one for the baby. I wanted to run. The key I hid in Ike's base? It's to a safety despot box 3929 in Radford bank. The passports, cash, and the information for my account in Monarch Douglas Bank are all in there. I was going to tell you the truth and we were going to disappear." No, that wasn't possible. Reddington would have told her. Wouldn't he? Liz thought back to their first cases together. He told her 'I'm never telling you everything.' But what about Tom? Tom had lied to her repeated. He had never told her the truth.

"Bullshit. You had plenty of time to come clean and you said NOTHING." Tom didn't respond at first, instead choosing to wander back to the couch and sit down. When he'd settled, he looked back up at her.

"I was waiting for the right moment."

"What right moment?" What was he talking about now?

"Our baby. I was waiting for our baby. I thought somehow if we were a family…You might believe me. I thought maybe you'd let me stay, to protect our child." Liz thought back to how excited Tom had been throughout the adoption. How he'd pushed her to take maternity leave. How heartbroken he'd seemed when she told him she couldn't go through with it. Had that all been genuine?

"You think that would have worked? That I would have just forgiven you?" How would she have reacted if Tom had gone through with his plan? He told her so many lies, but if he'd confessed, if he'd really loved her, if they had a child, what would she have done?

"I think you would have done whatever you thought you had to to protect the baby. And yes, if not for Reddington, I think I could have convinced you. If he had waited six more months we could have been gone, but I imagine he knew that. It was why he showed up when he did. Sabotage the adoption. Make you doubt me. Bind you to him. And it worked."

There was a knock on the hotel room door, interrupting them. It was just as well, since she had no idea how to respond. Tom's eyes swung to the monitor.

"Is it the room service?"

"Looks that way." Tom picked up the phone and put it to his ear. "I got a food service delivery at the door. Can we confirm he's legitimate?" Liz couldn't hear the other voice on the line, but she saw Tom nod and hang up. Tom didn't move to the stand, he just kept staring at the screen.

"So are we good?"

"Ressler says we're all clear." Liz rolled her eyes and started walking toward the door. Tom moved to intercept her.

"Would you go get my wallet for the tip? I left it in the bedroom." Liz nodded and stepped back toward the door, only to have Tom catch her arm. "I meant what I said. I do love you." Tom bent to kiss her cheek, his lips warm against her skin. He whispered quickly and urgently her ear. "Get a gun, go to the bathroom, lock the door, and get into the tub. Do not come out unless I tell you to. Trust me." Liz pulled back and looked deeply into Tom's eyes. Trust him? She thought of all the time she had and been disappointed. Trust him? He hurt her. He lied to her. He left her. But he'd come back. He loved her and he'd come back for her. Trust him.


	9. Losing Your Memory (Tom's POV)

Tom's eyes flew open. White walls. Heart monitor beeping erratically. Pain in his shoulder. Pain in his head. IV in his arm. Metal cuff around his right wrist, chaining him to the bed. What was going on? The door to the hospital room flew open revealing Agent Ressler looking as pissed as Tom had ever seen him.

"Where is she, you son of a bitch?!" Tom blinked, feeling disoriented by the question. Where was who? Liz? Why was Ressler asking him that? Tom suddenly remembered the handcuffs and the pieces slowly started to fall into place. Something had happened to Liz and Ressler thought he was responsible. Tom strained his memory to make sense of it, but found nothing but bits and pieces.

_A night club. Christopher Hendricks. Hotel room. Kissing Liz. Explosion. Smoke. Bullets flying. Pain. Blood. Serbian accents. Liz's voice screaming his name…_

"What happened?" Why couldn't he remember?! His head certainly hurt. Did he have a concussion? Was it the pain medication that was dulling his mind? Tom yanked the IV out of his arm. Gunshot wound or no, he needed to be sharp. Liz was missing. Liz had been taken from him…

A shrill beeping filled his ears as his heart rate spiked. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He hadn't felt like this since the day he'd called Liz at work and been answered by a man who had claimed he was going to kill his wife.

"The innocent act might have worked for you before, but I would seriously advise you against an encore performance. No one is going to take the fall for you this time." Ressler's voice dragged Tom back into the present. Liz hadn't died then and she wasn't going to die now. He needed to focus, to gather information.

"Agent Ressler, I don't know what it is you think I've done, but if you don't start explaining what is going on, I promise you will live to regret it." Liz had been abducted; that much was obvious. What was less clear was why Agent Ressler suspected him. Was it simply Ressler's general mistrust, given Tom's past associations, or was there more to it than that?

"Give it up, Keen. We found your account at Monarch Douglas. We know about the deposit. We got you cold on conspiracy to the kidnapping of a federal agent. I should mention that three agents died during the attack, so that tacks on felony murder. If you talk now, MAYBE I can convince the prosecutor to take the death penalty off the table. Where is Agent Scott?"

He was being framed. That made sense. Liz's kidnappers must have been professionals, but even professionals couldn't have made it through the security the FBI had provided without inside help. Whoever they had on the inside was diverting suspicion onto him. He was an obvious target, a criminal distrusted by the rest of the team, brought in only on another criminal's say so.

The fact they were using his Monarch Douglas account was both good and bad news. The good news was that very few people knew his account number and they all worked for Berlin. He now knew who had staged the attack. The bad news was that he'd have a hard time convincing Agent Ressler that he'd been set up.

A fake bank account would be one thing, Aram, assuming he wasn't the mole, could eventually prove it was a false trail. The fact that they'd used his real account meant he had no proof that this wasn't exactly what it appeared to be. Add to that the fact he'd been left alive, with relatively minor injuries, and the pre-existing prejudice Ressler had against him, and Tom was more or less screwed. The truth would not set him free, so he needed to try a lie.

"You want to find your partner alive Agent Ressler, I'd suggest you unlock these handcuffs." Tom trained his face into its most dispassionate and sinister expression. If this was going to work, Ressler would need to believe Tom was the monster the agent had always suspected he was. Ressler's curled lip told Tom he was on the right track.

"Not happening, pal." Tom searched his memory for everything he knew about Agent Ressler. He'd done extensive research on every member of the team, identifying potential security threats. They all had come back clean, but every agent had external vulnerabilities, loved ones, with the sole exception of Ressler. His parents were dead, no siblings, no close friends and because of that there was very little chance Berlin would have chosen him as his inside man. Ressler had once had a girlfriend, but she had been killed about four months ago. That was the pressure point Tom needed to push.

"That's too bad. You seem to be making a habit of losing the women in your life. What was your girlfriend's name again? Alice? Aubrey? No…Audrey, right? Died in your arms, didn't she? You were right there, and you couldn't do a thing to help her, just like you can't help Lizzie." Ressler took a step towards Tom's bed, rage etched in every line of his face. Perfect.

"What are you going to do Agent Ressler? Beat the truth out of me, with a pair of your colleagues right outside the door?" Ressler stopped and Tom smiled his most taunting smirk. Would Ressler take the bait? It was against protocol, but the man had a lot of rage inside him.

The ginger-haired agent stared at Tom for what felt like an eternity, before walking over to the door, opening it, and exiting the room. Tom watched through the window as Ressler spoke to the agents outside. After a few exchanges the men nodded, and left their post without a backward glance. Tom's smile became genuine. Thank goodness for the willingness of law enforcement officers to overlook civil liberties when one of their own was threatened. It was going to make breaking out of the hospital that much easier.

Tom reached over with his free left hand, wincing as moved his injured shoulder, grabbed his right thumb and popped it out of joint. He bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out in pain. Damn, that never stopped hurting.

Ressler re-entered the room, and Tom repasted a smile on his face. "Am I going to get beat up now, Agent Ressler?" Ressler smiled thinly and proceed to pull the blinds in the room. This was getting better and better.

"You know, I once told Liz that I would rough up for her. Funny how things work out, isn't it?" Ressler sidled up to the left side of Tom's bed and grabbed his left wrist with one hand and gently rested the other on Tom's injured shoulder.

"Last chance: Where is Agent Scott?" Tom knew he needed to be careful, that he'd only get one shot at this. Ressler would have to be distracted, so focused on hurting him that he won't see Tom's move before it was too late.

"I suppose that's open to interpretation. Tell me, what is your personal take on the afterlife?" Ressler's fingers squeezed his bullet wound, causing Tom's vision to go blurry with pain, though not enough to stop him from pulling his right hand free of the cuff and delivering a swift blow to Ressler's throat. The agent's hand instinctively flew to the injury, freeing Tom's left hand to deftly grab his gun. Tom pointed the weapon at Ressler's chest.

"Strip." The agent reluctantly did as he was told as Tom stood and turned off his heart monitor. When Ressler was down to nothing but his underwear, Tom motioned the agent to take his place in the bed. Tom began dressing as quickly as he could while keeping his gun on the federal agent.

"I don't have a lot of time, so I'll make this brief. There IS a mole on the unit, but it's not me and I'm now 90% sure it's not you." Ressler snorted in disbelief.

"Why should I believe you?" The agent's voice was barely louder than a whisper, which of course had been Tom's intention when he'd aimed for the throat. The injury would make it hard for Ressler to immediately summon help. Hopefully Tom could convince the agent not to try, but it was always a good idea to have a back-up plan.

"Because if it had been me, you would be dead by now. You need to find out who betrayed us. I'll be in touch." Tom straightened his tie and headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "I'm sorry, for what I said about Audrey. It's a terrible thing to lose the woman you love." Tom left without looking back to see how his apology was received. He'd meant what he'd said, it was a terrible thing to lose the woman you love. Tom would make damn sure that it wouldn't happen to him.


	10. Two Minutes (Tom's POV)

Tom banged twice on the warehouse door and waited for someone to answer. The second he was sure clear of the FBI, he'd found a payphone and dialed Reddington's number. Tom had been given the address to the warehouse where he and Reddington had first struck their deal. Had Reddington intended it to be a subtle reminder of how Tom had failed to live up to his end of the agreement? If so he needn't have bothered, Tom was acutely aware of how much he'd let Liz down. He just prayed it wasn't too late to make it right.

Dembe opened the door and led Tom inside without a word. The bodyguard's face was, as usual, lacking in expression. There was no way to tell exactly how much Reddington was blaming Tom for the nightmare they were now both in. It didn't really matter one way or the other. Liz was missing and the only person Tom trusted to help get her back was Reddington. Any plans Red may have to kill him would be dealt with after Liz was safe.

Reddington was standing before a man strapped to a chair. The captive's face was bloody and bruised, which was a bit surprising. Reddington rarely used his fists, his methods of extracting information were far more effective. Tom scrutinized the prisoner and realized that beneath the blood and bruises was the face of Christopher Hendricks. When Reddington heard Tom's approach he turned and offered Tom a cordial smile.

"Hello, Tom." Reddington turn his back on the prisoner and crossed the room until he stood only a few feet from Tom. Tom decided it was best to skip the pleasantries.

"Did you track the GPS?" Tom distinctly remembered seeing the watch on Liz's wrist when she'd emerged from the bedroom. Reddington should have been able to track her location, assuming the watch wasn't damaged in the assault. Reddington nodded as though he'd expected the question.

"My team tracked it to warehouse in Virginia, but they were intercepted five minutes out. By the time they fought their way through to the site, Liz was gone. They found pieces of the watch scattered on the floor." Damn it.

"Did you find anything at the warehouse?" There had to be a clue, a lead, something…

"The helicopter they used was torched, presumably to destroy evidence. The FBI is analyzing the remains as we speak, but I don't think they'll find much. There were a series of numbers scratched on the wall '62312Z' which I believe Lizzie left for us." Tom took a deep breath. Liz was alive and she was leaving breadcrumbs for him to follow. 62312Z. A date? June 23rd, 2012. The Folkin assassination, it had to be.

"Angel Station." What about the letter? What would Z stand for? "Zanetakos. Liz knows she was involved with the Angel Station hit. She must be running the operation." Reddington nodded his agreement.

"That was my conclusion as well. We need a tracker, and unfortunately, do to certain parties who shall remain nameless, the Cowboy is indefinitely unavailable." Tom bit back the retort that he wouldn't have killed the Cowboy in the first place, if Reddington hadn't sent the man to expose him. They needed to focus on finding a solution, not placing blame.

"You don't know anyone else?" It was hard to believe that in a network the size of Reddington's that the Cowboy was the only competent tracker.

"Not someone who could get results in within our current time frame." Tom ran a hand through his hair in frustration. There was no telling how long Liz would be in Gina's custody before she was turned over to Berlin. Tom may not have known what Berlin wanted with her, but he didn't want to find out. They needed to find Gina and they needed to find her now.

"Perhaps I could be of some assistance." Tom and Red turned simultaneously to look at Hendricks. "I happen to be acquainted with the best digital tracker in the business, and who, as luck would have it, also happens to be a local." Hendricks sounded remarkably calm and collect, given that he was tied to chair, and bleeding profusely from his nose.

"Give me the name." Reddington's voice had lost all its good humor. Though he didn't shout the menace in his tone was clear. Hendricks, remarkably seemed unruffled by Red's ire.

"Let me speak with Daniel first. Alone." Tom's eyes widened slightly. Hendricks had used his real name. Why? And why did he want to talk?

"You're in no position to make demands." Hendricks actually laughed at Reddington's response. Christopher had obviously been hit in the head too many times if he thought laughing at Raymond Reddington was a good idea.

"Actually I'm in the perfect position to make demands. I have nothing to lose. My client list is comprised, and I'm either about to betray Berlin or defy Raymond Reddington. No matter what I do, I doubt I'll survive the next 24 hours. I'm willing to help you, but in exchange I want is two minutes alone with my former client." Reddington pressed his lips together and then nodded.

"Two minutes." Without another glance at Tom, Reddington and Dembe exited out of the door Tom had entered through. Tom watched as they left, then he turned to Hendricks.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Despite himself Tom couldn't help, but wonder what it was Hendricks wanted to ask him.

"What happened to you?" Hendricks was going to need be a little more specific than that if he wanted an answer.

"Excuse me?"

"You were my favorite client. Perfect record. You were this close from retirement. And then I get a call. My best man was trying to renege on a contract." Tom thought back to that night. He'd been very reasonable, offering to return the down payment plus and extra $20,000 for the inconvenience. Berlin really should have taken him up on the offer.

"So you sold me out." If Hendricks had had any sort of a backbone, neither Tom nor Hendricks would be in their current predicaments.

"It wasn't that simple. Berlin would have killed you and then he would have taken out a few more of my clients, as an example to me." Tom snorted in disbelief. Was Hendricks really going to try to play the victim here?

"Which would have broken your heart, I'm sure." The idea that Hendricks actually gave a damn about his clients was ridiculous. Tom was living proof of that.

"Believe or not I feel a responsibility for my clients. My business is protecting them. That was why I started doing this in the first place, as a way to help the people who'd been betrayed by their countries as surely as I had been." Tom was genuinely impressed by how sincere Hendricks sounded. If Tom didn't know better he might actually believe the man truly felt he was performing some kind of altruistic service for the disavowed assets like himself.

"So when you told Berlin where to find my family, that was just you looking out for me?" Hendricks could spin a lot of things, but there was no getting around the fact he'd put an innocent's family at risk in order to protect his business interests.

"You know how the game is played, Daniel. You knew the risk you were running. What I don't understand is why you did it. Was it the girl?" Tom kept his face impassive. Was this what Hendricks wanted, to learn Tom's weaknesses?

"What girl?" How much had Hendricks learned already? Did he know who Liz was? Had he connected her with 'Nikki'?

"Don't play stupid, it doesn't suit you. I never know the specifics of the jobs, but I always know the parameters. The Berlin job was a deep cover Romeo. Early on in the job something went wrong, and you tried to back out. Two years later I heard you flipped on Berlin and last night you waltz into my club with a fresh face I've never heard of, who has inexplicable valuable to them. My question remains, was 'Nikki' your target?" Tom considered lying. The last time Hendricks gathered information on Tom's loved ones he leaked the intelligence and put them in danger. On the other hand, this was a different situation. Liz was already in danger and he needed Hendricks cooperation to save her.

"Yes." It was hard to believe he'd ever thought of Liz in such an impersonal way. It was like the memory belonged to someone else. Daniel's recollection, not Tom's.

"Are you in love with her?" Hendricks didn't sound scornful, just genuinely curious.

"Yes." It had taken Tom so long to admit that truth to himself. Liz had just confessed that she wanted to adopt. He was holding her in his arms, picturing himself with Liz and the baby, and he'd felt such joy. He wanted that family more than he's ever wanted anything in his life. That was when he'd know that she had him.

"Does she love you?" She wanted him, certainly, but love him? She didn't know him the way he knew her. If she did know all of him, all his secrets, all his darkness, could she ever embrace him fully and unconditionally?

"I don't know." In the end, it didn't really matter. Tom hadn't made his agreement with Reddington because he expected to win back Liz's love. Real love doesn't required reward or reciprocation.

"Was she worth it?" Worth it? Knowing Liz had brought him more joy and sorrow than any other experience in life.

"Yes. Unequivocally, yes." Hendricks studied Tom's face and whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him.

"Lord Baltimore AKA Rowan Mills. You'll need to reach out through her associate. Her situation is…unique. Call Reddington back in and I'll give him the specifics."


	11. Girl Talk (Liz's POV)

Liz hadn't felt a pounding in her skull like this since she was an undergrad. Whatever drugs Zanetakos had shot her up with had produced one hell of a hangover. Liz slowly opened her eyes, trying to locate her kidnapper without alerting the woman that she'd regained consciousness.

She appeared to be in a dingy apartment of some kind. Zanetakos wasn't in Liz's immediate line of sight, but Liz didn't doubt she was close by. There was a window that was about ten feet in front of her but it had been boarded up. Liz's wrists had be zip tied to the wooden chair she was sitting in. Her feet were tied together, but not secured to the chair.

Liz tested her restraints, but they were tied too tightly to slip. Was there anything she could use to cut them? Liz scanned the room for sharp objects; nail, shards of glass, anything with an edge. Nothing. How was she going to get out of this?

Tom would know, he'd been a spy for over ten years. How many times had he been captured, tied up like this? She'd never asked him. Now she might never get the chance. He might already be dead. Tom had be hit right before the wall to the suite had exploded. She'd remembered the sight of Tom on the ground and screaming his name, right before the bag had gone over her head. Was that the last time she'd ever see him? Liz felt her chest constrict at the thought. She couldn't breath. A world without without Tom, was...unthinkable.

_Breath Lizzie. _Tom's voice was clear and calm in her mind and instinctively she obeyed. Phantom memories of all the times Tom had held her after her father's death. She'd always felt so safe. Tom was alive, he had to be, because if he had truly gone from this world she would feel it in her bones. Their story was not over yet. It was time to focus.

If the ties couldn't be slipped or cut, what were her options? Could the chair itself be broken? Liz yanked her arms left and right as hard as she could, but the chair didn't budge. Should she try flipping it?

Liz heard footsteps behind her and quickly closed her eyes. The footsteps moving around her and stopped a few feet in front of her.

"Playing opossum Agent Scott?" Before Liz could decide whether or not to open her eyes she felt an agonizing pain in her left thigh. She yelled instinctively and her eyes shot open. The first thing she saw was a knife protruding from her leg. Gina casually yanked it out and blood started to flow from the wound. The terrorist pulled out a rag, wiped the blade and put both back into her jacket pocket.

Liz tried to block out the pain by reviewing everything she'd been taught about how to interact with a kidnapper in a hostage situation. They advise to build a rapport, humanize yourself to you captor, and emotionally connect with them. Watching the small, but vicious smile on Zanetakos' face, Liz knew those strategies would not work here. That smile was pure pleasure. Gina was enjoying Liz's pain, she was getting personal satisfaction from it.

"I'd bandage that if I was you. Berlin wants a live hostage, not a dead body." For a moment Gina's smile flickered. Something about Liz's response had caught her off guard. Was it her lack of fear? Was Gina hoping she'd beg for her life? Or was it that Liz has used Berlin's name?

"That's quite a presumption." Liz cocked her head to the side, forcing a smirk. She couldn't afford to show weakness to this woman.

"Not really. If your boss wanted me dead, he wouldn't have sent an extraction team." Liz had recognized one of the voice of one of her attackers. He was the same man who had snatched Beth on her first day of work. Who ever those people were, they weren't assassins, they were professional kidnappers. Liz would be relatively safe until she reached her final destination.

Gina scowled and left the room. Liz worked at her restraints until she heard Gina's returned. The terrorist was carrying a needle, some kind of thread, and gazes. She was silent as she slowly and painfully closed and bandaged the wound she'd inflicted. Liz couldn't help releasing a relieved breath when Gina had completed her task.

"I wouldn't put too much faith in your value. He only wants you alive so he can take you apart piece by piece." Liz pushed down the bubble of fear rising inside of her. Tom had said that Berlin had hired him to investigate how she and Reddington were connected. He'd also said that her scar connected her to them. Was it possible that Gina didn't know about the scar? Her father had told her the scar would protect her. Time to find out if that was true.

"I've got a scar on my right wrist that says otherwise." Gina's face went blank, with only a slight pinching of her eyebrows betraying her confusion.

"What are you talking about?" She really didn't know. Liz's treated Gina to a smug grin. She may have been tied up, but at least she had one advantage over her captor.

"When I was fourteen my father burned this shape into my arm, swearing it would protect me someday. I thought it was the medications the doctors had given him for his cancer treatments, but then I found the same shape on the go-box I found in your house." It had been on Tom's too, but Liz didn't want to bring him up just yet. Liz didn't know much about Gina, but she did know the woman used to keep Tom's picture by her bed. Red had claimed Tom and Gina used to be lovers. Perhaps there was some feeling there she could exploit.

"You're lying." Liz raised her eyebrows. This could actually work in favor, if she played it right. If Gina was the curious type, she'd have to untie Liz's right arm.

"Feel free to look." Gina glared at Liz for a few seconds before loosening the tie on her arm.

"Try anything and you will regret it." Gina flipped over Liz's wrist and pushed back the sleeve of her hoody. Gina stared at the scar for almost ten second without speaking. Liz could since the angry brewing beneath the surface. That was good. Anger made people make mistakes.

"If personal vengeance was what you were going for here, I'd say you're out of luck." Gina snorted derisively, as though Liz's comment was too ridiculous for words, but the her grip on Liz's arm tightened.

"Don't flatter yourself. This is business." Liz flashed Gina her most condescending smile.

"Is it? Because I keep thinking back to when we raided your house. Tom's picture was by your bed. You lied to the FBI about Angel Station and took the fall for him. You covered for him and after all that, he still chose me over you. That must have hurt." Gina's upper lip curled and she still hadn't re-tied Liz's right arm to the chair.

"You know nothing." Liz could sense the she was almost there, she just had to push a little more, inflict as much pain on this woman as she could.

"He's going to come for me, you know, and when he gets here, he's going to kill you for what you've done. I mean everything to him, and you don't mean anything at all." Gina finally released Liz's arm, and backhanded her across the face.

"Shut up you stupid bitch!" Liz kicked her legs as hard as she could at Gina's shins causing her to stumble backward and then she launched herself, chair and all, at Gina. Together they crashed into the floor. Liz landed more or less on top of Gina, pinning her to the ground. Using her free arm she clocked her kidnapper as hard as she could in the temple. Gina's disorientation bought Liz just enough time to dive into Gina's jacket pocket and retrieve the knife. Liz released the blade and pressed it to Gina's throat.

"I don't know, Gina, you look like the stupid bitch to me." Liz had barely finished getting out the words when she heard a gun being cocked about ten feet behind her. Damn it.


	12. Take Me To Church (Tom's POV)

It had taken twenty-six hours, but Lord Baltimore had finally responded to Reddington's job offer. The meet had been scheduled to take place a church in DC. Unfortunately that wasn't the only proviso the tracker had made.

"Convenient that Lord Baltimore was only interested in meeting if you showed up at the exchange. Why is that, do you think?" Hendricks didn't take his eyes from the church's stained glass windows.

"I imagine she's being cautious. I signaled all of my assets last night, Lord Baltimore included, and informed them that their information had been comprised." At first Tom though he had misheard.

"You did what?" Tom could not believe Hendricks would have been so stupid. Even if the man had discovered he'd been robbed, that last thing in the world he should have done was confess it to his highly dangerous clientele.

"Why on Earth would you do that?" Tom had obviously overestimated Hendricks' instinct for self-preservation.

"To give them the opportunity to change their information, if they didn't want Reddington contacting them without an intermediary. Not everyone is as close with the concierge of crime as you now seem to be." It suddenly struck Tom that Hendricks had no idea that any of this was connected to the FBI. That certainly explained his willingness to help, given Hendricks' deep hatred of all government organizations. He wondered if the so-called "Agent of Ex-Agents" would have been as willing to confess to the leak if he'd known the data had gone into the hands of law enforcement.

"Reddington and I are not close." That was certainly true enough. Tom and Reddington had a mutual tolerance of one another, but that was it.

"And yet he trusted you to take this meeting alone." Given that Lord Baltimore had given no indication of when or if she turn up, Reddington had gone to assist Ressler with the mole hunt. Tom had been left to guard Hendricks and await the phone call. They had been the longest hours of Tom's life. He'd hated having to sit there, doing nothing while Liz remained in the hands of the sociopath he used to screw.

He should never have gotten into bed with Gina in the first place, but at the time it seemed like the easiest way to convince Berlin of his new-found loyalty. If he was honest there had also also been the appeal of not having to be someone he wasn't. It was easy being with Gina; she expected nothing from him, and he expected nothing from her. No deceit, except the lie he told himself, that when they came together he wasn't thinking about someone else. Eventually Tom hadn't been able to keep up the pretense. He loved Liz and no amount casual sex was going to change that.

Gina had been...unhappy when Tom had pulled the plug on their arrangement. Tom suspected it was more ego than anything else, but with Gina's psychological make-up, the rejection might have made her fixate on him. If that was case, then Berlin might not be the greatest to Liz's safety . No, he was overreacting. Gina was a professional, she wouldn't risk Berlin's anger by mistreating his prize.

Tom suddenly realized that Hendricks had stopped staring at the window and was now studying him, clearly waiting for a response. What had he said? Something about Reddington not coming to the meeting.

"He has other leads to pursue." There were a dozen agents who might have have been turned, and finding the culprit would take skills that Agent Ressler quite frankly didn't possess. Tom only hoped that Red moved quickly. If Lord Baltimore turned out to be a dead end, then the leak was their last chance of finding Liz. Typically it took professional kidnappers 48 hours to get a hostage out of the country. After that, the chance of the hostage dropped significantly. Tom checked his watch. They were at 34 hours and counting.

"And he trusts you." Tom forced his mind to re-focus on Hendricks. What was he after? Was he looking for some kind of weakness to exploit between him and Reddington?

"He trusts we have a mutual interest." In this particular scenario that mutual interest mattered far more than any personal loyalty ever could have. Reddington, while aware of the bank account transfer, hadn't asked Tom a single question about it. He'd acknowledged they had a mole and they'd both moved on without a single accusation or denial. Reddington knew Tom loved Liz more than anything else in the world, therefore he was not vulnerable to Berlin. The other agents at the Post Office could not say the same. They had mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and husbands and wives and children...the list went on an on. Bribes were unpredictable, but hostages, they could almost always be relied upon to sway the most patriotic soul.

"Yes. The girl. You, Reddington, and Berlin, all fighting over her. Tell me, what makes her so special?" Had Hendricks always been this irritating or was this a more recent development?

"What is your obsession with this?" It was as though Hendricks had morphed into one of those television shrinks, the ones that were always asking people to share their feelings. The change was pretty unsettling in a former spy. Hendricks tilted his head slightly as though he was seriously considering Tom's question.

"I suppose it's like meeting someone who's been struck by lightning. The odds of it happening at all are astronomical, the odds of surviving it are even less. It's only natural to be curious, to wonder about what it feels like." So Tom was now some kind of sideshow attraction to Hendricks? Come one, come all to see "The Spy Who Fell For His Target". At least someone found entertainment in his misery.

"Painful. Kind of like your death will be if your contact doesn't show soon." Lord Baltimore was now more than ten minutes late and with every passing second the chances of finding Liz grew slimmer. Killing Hendricks might not bring Liz back, but it might help Tom release just enough steam to refocus on the task of finding her. At the moment Tom could barely see straight through the haze of anger and ever-increasing panic.

"See, there it is. You used to be so detached, but now you're impassioned. I don't know whether to pity you or envy you. I suppose that'll depend on if we find the girl." If 'We' find the girl? Was this Hendricks' play, subtly align himself with Tom, make himself part of the team working to find Liz. Did Hendricks think he was that stupid?

"If I don't find her, I'm not the one you should be worrying about." As far as Tom was concerned Hendricks had earned a bullet in the head years ago. The only reason Tom had spared him this long was because of Liz. Liz would want Hendricks to answer in a court of law for what he'd done. She still believed in a civilized system of justice. Liz would want Hendricks arrested, not executed.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill both of you right now." The voice came from the balcony of the church. Tom turned slowly and saw a woman aiming a sniper rifle at him.

"Because I represent Raymond Reddington. If you kill me, he WILL kill you." Reddington's reputation should help him here. Regular contractors of the concierge of crime had a protection similar to the citizens of Rome: Kill one and the might of the whole empire falls upon you. Most criminals think twice before incurring the wrath of Raymond Reddington.

"Assuming you are who you claim to be. I notice Reddington isn't here." Tom's patience was wearing thin. If this woman didn't deliver on her end of the bargain there would be hell to pay.

"You took your time getting back to us, and he had other business to attend to. If you're still not certain, allow me to allay your fears. You've heard of Dembe I presume." Dembe appeared as silently as a ghost behind Rowan and put a gun to her head. Tom had to admire the man's sleath, especially given his size. Rowan rose to her feet with her hands in the air. She looked remarkably calm for a woman facing the business end of semi-automatic.

"You brought a friend. That's nice. I brought two." Tom drew his gun as two men armed entered the chapel, one from the front of the church and one from the back. This could get very messy very quickly.

"Hey, easy! This is a business transaction. We're all professionals here." Hendricks was clearly in crisis management mode.

"I don't do business with Feds." Tom was doing the tactical mental calculations in his mind and didn't like what he was coming up with. The odds of him being able to fire, spin 180 degree and fire again before being fatally shot himself were not good. His best chance was to try and talk his way out of this.

"Were you missing the part where Reddington's bodyguard is pointing a gun at your head?" Dembe was well known enough to confirm to Lord Baltimore that he was here on Reddington's behalf.

"How do I know Raymond Reddington hasn't turned informant?" Tom's training mercifully prevented him from betraying the accuracy of Mills' guess, but inside his mind was reeling.

"Reddington working for the government? I'd re-think that accusation if I were you." Why was this woman so convinced he was a federal agent? He'd been around enough of them to know that he didn't fit the profile.

"A federal bulletin went out not too long after we spoke for one 'Gina Zanetakos' who is wanted in connection with the abduction of a federal agent. Quite a coincidence, don't you think?" Tom was going to kill Ressler. He'd told the agent that he and Reddington had it under control, but no, the moron had to get involved. He supposed it was his fault, he never should have told the ginger-haired agent about the deciphering the code Liz left, but he hadn't wanted the agent to waste his time on solving a puzzle that had already been solved.

"The agent is in possession of valuable intelligence, that's why Berlin had her abducted in the first place. Reddington wants that intelligence. Now can we do business or not?" Tom waited with baited breath as Mills' considered his query.

"As soon as you prove to me you're not a Fed." Rowan's eyes flickered to Hendricks, and suddenly Tom understood why she'd insisted he'd be brought to the meet.

"Fine." Tom spun and shot a round into Hendricks' stomach. Tom watched dispassionately as Hendricks dropped to the floor, clutching at his wound. Tom turned to Rowan. "Satisfied?" Lord Baltimore narrowed her eyes at him, undoubtedly assessing body language.

"Why not a head shot?" Tom shrugged, ignoring the man struggling to sit up a few feet away from him.

"Because I'd rather it not be quick and painless. You aren't the only on here who's been burned by Hendricks. If it will speed this along, I'll finish it now." Tom raised his gun and pointed it at his former agent's head. He felt no pity for this man. If Rowan asked him to end Hendricks he would, and feel no remorse. He would do far worse to ensure Liz's safety.

"No. I'm satisfied." Gina nodded at her men, who lowered their weapons. Dembe simultaneously lowered his. "Zanetakos is here in DC. 3952 Spaulding Street, Apt 24." Tom couldn't believe it. They had her. He pulled out his phone and rapidly punched in the code to release the funds to Mills' account. He heard a ding from her pocket confirming the payment. Lord Baltimore pulled out her phone and smiled.

"I guess we're done here. See you around." Mills' and her team exited as Tom dialed Reddington.

"3952 Spaulding Street, Apt 24."

"My team will meet you there." As Reddington disconnected Tom's eyes fell on Hendricks.

"So this it Daniel, you're just going to leave me here to bleed out? What would that lovely federal agent of yours say?"

Tom didn't bother with a response, he just headed to the nearest exit. Hendricks was just trying to manipulate him, there was no reason to pay any heed to what he said. Hendricks put his family at risk, he put Liz at risk, he deserved to die.

Suddenly a memory flew to his mind. It was the morning after he'd returned from the Post Office. He'd found Liz downstairs at 7:00 am, planning to redecorate the living room, as though a fresh coat of paint would fix the things that had gone wrong between them. Liz has hopped on his back and apologized to him. She'd said 'They made me believe you were a monster.' A monster. Was that what he was being now, leaving Hendricks to bleed out? It wasn't what Liz would want. What about him? What did he want? Did he want to be a better man? Could he be?

Dembe jumped behind the wheel of the car and Tom slid into the passenger seat. As the engine sprang to life Tom punched dialed the emergency number.

"A man's been shot. He's in the basement of St. Mary Church. 238 Davenport Street." Tom hit the disconnect button, removed the sim card and wiped down the phone. When he finished, he tossed the phone out of the car. He saw Dembe watching him from the corner of his eye.

"Hendricks won't talk and he might be useful in the future." The last thing he needed was the inscrutable bodyguard tattling on him to Reddington, saying that he'd been sloppy or reckless.

" "They should rather pardon and overlook. Would you not love Allah to forgive you? Allah is Ever-Forgiving, Most Merciful." There is no shame in forgoing vengeance." Over two months and Tom had never seen this goliath of Reddington's open his mouth, and when the man finally does speak, he quotes the Qur'an. Go figure.

"I didn't know you were Muslim." It was more than a little surprising that someone so close to Raymond Reddington would preach forgiveness and peace. Well, as he'd once said to Liz, we never really know people.

"As I did not know you were a good man. That is good, because Agent Keen is a good woman. We will get her back." Dembe sounded so serene and so certain, that Tom could almost believe the man had some kind of divine insight into the future. It was a shame that Tom was an atheist.

"Because Allah wills it?" Tom tried, but failed to keep the skepticism out of his voice. Dembe did not seem offended by Tom's tone, but instead offered Tom a small smile.

"No. Because Raymond does."


	13. Hostage Negotiation (Liz's POV)

Liz's leg was bleeding again. The stitches had probably ripped during her ill-fated scuffle with Gina. She doubted either of her captors had noticed, and the newly applied piece of duct tape over her mouth prevented her from alerting them to the issue. She would probably end up bleeding out while the two of them bickered in front of her. They were treating her as if she was a part of the piece of furniture they had tied her to.

"Berlin will not be pleased you nearly let her escape." 'Nearly' being the operative word in that sentence. Liz couldn't help but think that if the man had just been a few minutes later she would have been gone. The universe was clearly not on her side, but what else was new? Her only real option now was to gather as much information as she possibly could, and hope she learned something that could help get her out of this mess. So far she'd gathered from the tattoos and the accent that her male captor was Russian Bratva. Berlin seemed to have his hand in quite a few criminal pies.

"Berlin does not need to know." Berlin clearly wasn't that type of boss who tolerated mistakes. Maybe she could use Gina's screw-up to her advantage, offer to keep quiet in exchange for a nail or some else small and sharp that could aid her in her escape once she'd been relocated.

"Keeping secrets from Berlin is not wise. What would be the benefit for me?" The greasy innuendo in the man's voice made Liz's skin crawl. If the man was this much of a pig to an associate, she didn't like what it portended for her as his prisoner.

"Information that would interest you greatly." This could be helpful. If Gina knew what interested this man, then Liz would have a better insight into how to manipulate him.

"And what is that?"

"The girl bares Berlin's mark. That was the reason I untied her in the first place. She has the symbol branded on her wrist." Liz struggled to figure out why her scar would interest the Russian. What was his stake in all of this?

"No. It means nothing. Reddington put it there to mislead us." The mobster turned and looked at Liz with something that looked remarkably like hatred. Gina shook her head, refuting the mobster's theory.

"The scar is too old. Over a decade at least. Reddington had no knowledge of Berlin until five years ago. No, the girl belongs to Berlin in some way." In what way? The scar was supposed to protect her, but why? Was she...could she be related to the monster? Could he be her father? Liz wasn't sure she wanted the question answered.

"No, Berlin is going to use the girl to make Reddington suffer. I was promised-" Zanetakos cut the man off mid-sentence.

"Whatever assurances Berlin gave you will be worth nothing when he learns of the scar." What was Gina after here? Why was she sharing this information? Was this really just about compensating the mobster for keeping quiet?

"When? You don't think he already knows?" Gina once again shook her head. Liz was baffled. Berlin had to know about the scar. He'd sent Tom, and Tom had noticed the scar on their first date. He must had reported it.

"No. I think someone hid it from him." Was that possible? Had Tom held back that information?

"Scorpio? You think he was disloyal since the beginning?" Who was Scorpio? Was that Tom? Were they right? Had Tom been protecting her from the beginning?

"I warned Berlin of his weakness and what do they do? Send that stupid girl to test him. She was no match for him." The girl? Jolene Parker. Liz had known Tom killed her, but she had never been able to understand why. Liz had thought Jolene had been his ally, but apparently she hadn't been.

Liz thought back to morning she'd invited Jolene inside for coffee. The way Jolene had looked at Tom, the way she'd brought up the art exhibit they'd both went to. Berlin must have sent her to seduce Tom. What had happened? Why had he killed her?

"So all this risk, bringing down the FBI and Reddington upon us and I get nothing. I want Reddington to suffer!" The venom in the Russian's voice brought Liz back to the moment at hand. Both of her kidnappers appeared to have personal motives for wanting her dead. That was very bad news.

"He still can. You can finish it now. I'll tell him the girl tried to escape and you had no choice." Liz's heart skipped a beat. This was Gina's endgame; convince the Russian to murder her before delivering her to Berlin.

"And why would you do that?" The Russian was looking at Liz speculatively, presumably weighing the risk and reward of her death.

"I have no desire to see the bitch live." Gina shrugged apathetically, but Liz could see the glint of malice in her eye. Perhaps stirring up Gina's feelings of jealousy hadn't been the wisest move after all.

"Then why don't you do it?" Liz struggled to keep her breathing calm. Lack of trust might be the only thing keeping her alive today. Whatever Gina was going to say was interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing. The mobster extracted the cell from his pocket and put it up to his ear. Whatever he heard made him scowl, and shove the device back in his pants. Liz's heart swelled with hope. Whatever was bad for the mobster was good for her.

"That was our asset. The FBI are on their way here." He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Liz's head, killing her lifted spirit instantly. Was this it? Was this how she was going to die? "Untie her." Gina's knife was out in a flash and she began slicing at the Liz's restraints. When she finished Gina slid the knife into her boot and removed a small revolver from the back of her pants. Liz had to hand it to her, the woman certainly had come prepared.

"I'll take the girl. Get the van to the back alley." The man nodded and exited the apartment. Gina ripped the tape off Liz's mouth. "If you try and escape I will kill you and then I will track down that child you and Tom were planning to adopt, and I will kill it. Understand?" Liz looked into the woman's eyes and saw blankness. She meant what she said. How did a person become this way?

"I won't run."

Liz and Gina made it down the apartment's fire escape in under three minutes. The alley appeared deserted, except for the the van that was parked and running next to the dumpster. Gina kept the gun to Liz's back as they approached. As they got closer Liz noticed how still the mobster was. Still as death.

"Hello Gina." Liz's barely had time to register the welcome sound of Tom's voice before Gina's gun was at her temple. Tom appeared with his gun drawn from behind the dumpster. "Let her go now, and I'll let you walk away."

"How generous, seeing as how I have a hostage and you have no back-up."

"The task force will be here any minute."

As Tom spoke Liz saw Meera round the corner the the alley, Liz started to smile, but stop when she realised Meera's weapon wasn't pointed at Gina, but at Tom.

"Keen, drop your weapon." Liz's mind was racing. What was going on here?

"Meera, what are you doing?" Meera had been her partner for almost a year. Liz had looked up to her, considered her a friend.

"I'm sorry, Liz. They have my daughters. I didn't have a choice. Tom, last chance, drop the gun." Tom grimaced and complied.

"The traitor Scorpio. Berlin is going to enjoy killing you." Liz's eyes roved desperately around the alley. Where was Red, where was Ressler?

"Why wait for Berlin? Why not do it yourself?" Liz's eyes snapped back to Tom. Had he lost his mind?

"Tom, don't." They needed to stall for time. Help could be on its way at this very moment. Provoking his lunatic ex was a very bad idea.

"Don't worry, Liz. She not going to pull the trigger on me. She's too weak." He was trying to manipulate Gina, but to what end? He was the one who was supposed to be good at reading people. Couldn't he see that if he kept challenging her like this, he could very well goad her into killing him?

"Maybe I'll pull the trigger on your wife. Let's see who's the weak one then."

"You sound like a jealous mistress. It that what you are, Gina? Not an agent, just a woman scorned?" Liz suddenly understood where Tom was going with this. He was playing on Gina's pride, convincing her that killing Liz would demonstrate weakness, whereas killing him would prove strength. He was knowingly weaving the noose for his own hanging.

"You mean nothing to me." Tom's plan was working, Liz could hear it in Gina's voice. If Liz didn't do something, Tom would die.

"Then prove it. I am an obstacle, standing between you and your mission objective. Eliminate me." Liz felt the metal pull away from her temple, and she threw herself backward. Liz spun and wrestled for control of the weapon. A shot rang out and Gina dropped like a stone.


End file.
